Through a Hero's Eyes
by Eponine's Heir
Summary: Neville Longbottom lived almost his whole life with his Grandmother. He knows who is responsible for the insanity of his parents. But if he has a chance for revenge, will he take it? Neville's story, set in sixth year. PREHBP
1. Reunions

Through a Hero's Eyes

Chapter one: Reunions

"_Without me, his world will go on turning…"_ –Eponine, Les Miserables

Neville Longbottom lay on his bare mattress, staring at the top of his ceiling. His grandmother had spent the last two hours shouting at people via Floo Powder about his low OWL scores. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, pulling his pillow over his head as he heard his grandmother shout something along the lines of "HE'LL NEVER GET A JOB NOW! ONLY SEVEN OWLS!"

Suddenly, he threw the pillow across the room, letting it land softly in the corner. "It's not my fault…" Her murmured, as though that tiny statement would be able to raise his self esteem at all. "I did well on Herbology…" His eyes were stinging with warm tears now as he blinked the furiously away. How was he supposed to concentrate anyway, with Harry acting like he was? Neville wasn't as stupid as everybody thought he was; he didn't have to do well on divination to know when something was going on.

His bed creaked lightly as he pushed himself off his bed and crossed over the bare wood of his floor and sat down at his desk, letting his head sit on the cold wood. Thoughts of the Department of Mysteries immediately filled his mind. If only he hadn't dropped that orb… that stupid orb, why was it such a big deal? _But I could have done more…_He reminded himself, running a hand through his hair. _I could have stopped an injury or something… if I just wasn't so damn cowardly! And then of course, I had to go and break Dad's wand…I had to be such a klutz…_

He was about to get up, but a tapping at the window caught his attention. A light brown owl with beige speckled across its back flittered excitedly at the window panes. Neville stood up slowly, taking his hands out of his empty pockets and pushed open the glass. The bird fluttered in and dropped an official looking Hogwarts letter and a Daily Prophet on the ground. As the owl soared away, Neville ripped the envelope open and pulled out the note. Sighing, he skimmed over his classes for next term, and what books he'll need. "Great…" He whispered, re-closing the window and sitting back down on his bed.

Neville placed the letter on his bedside table and bent down to pick up the newspaper that had fallen to the floor. A face he recognized all too well was printed on the front. Bellatrix Lestrange laughed coldly in what looked like an Azkaban line up. In large, bold letters at the front, stated, that she had been spotted recently in Hogsmeade, and the threat of attack was rising. Hearing anger pumping through his veins, he dropped the paper on the ground and sat back in his bed, tears, once again, threatening their way down his face.

"NEVILLE!" A shrill voice brought him back to reality. With a swing of his door, Neville's grandmother appeared in full green robed, vulture hat-ed, fox fur scarfed costume. Her almost copyrighted red bag dropped to the floor as she fussed over Neville's hair. "We're about to go to visit your parents and you're still looking as if you just woke up!" Neville groaned and sat up, pushing his grandmother's hand away while bending down to grab his shoes.

About fifteen minutes later, Neville stood in front of the fire, with a pinch of Floo Powder in hand. He dropped it into the flames and stepped in, whispering, "St. Mungo's Hospital!" In an instant he was off, spinning in a swirl of green flames. He landed loudly in the crowded hospital, just managing not to fall. Quickly, he moved out of the way and watched Gran land with a clack of her high heals.

She bustled importantly to the front desk, pushing her way past a group of disheveled warlocks who had made their noses fall completely off. "We are here to see Alice and Frank Longbottom." She said, sniffing disapprovingly at the warlocks. The witch at the head counter nodded, and pointed towards the stairs. Gran wrapped her fingers around Neville's wrist and walked briskly towards the stairs, dragging her grandson along behind her.

They passed patients with all sorts of magical diseases and injuries, until they reached the fourth floor. They passed by an important looking healer with some kind of patch that gave him more authority, four patients who were screeching like owls, and a visitor who looked like he was lost and was looking for the tea room, until they finally reached Ward 49. A friendly looking witch, one of the new healers for the ward, smiled and murmured, "Frank just work up from a nap. Alice is still sleeping."

"Well, dear," Gran said, patting Neville stiffly on the shoulder. "We don't have much time. We still have to go to Diagon Alley." She pushed him forward a few inches. "So make it quick."

Neville treaded softly across the cold marble floor and sat down on a chair next to his father, who was staring blankly out the window. "Hi, dad." He whispered, as to not wake up his mother. Frank turned to him, and smiled weakly. His dark eyes retained the completely lost shine as it had since he was here. It was obvious Frank didn't know who was talking to him; but yet the soft voice was so comforting, that it seemed to trigger a far away memory. Neville sighed, as his father shook his head at nothing and turned back to look out the window, watching a bird flutter by intently.

"I'll see you later, dad." Neville said, patting his father's hand awkwardly. He stood up and tip toed his way over to his mother's bed. Alice's chest raised and fell slowly as she slept. "Mum?" He said, squeezing her hand slightly. "Mum, are you awake?"

"Oh, Neville, don't wake her." Gran said, taking off her vulture hat and brushing the stuffed bird off. "You know how hard it is to make her fall back – oh there, she's up." Alice opened her crystal blue eyes and blinked at her song slowly.

Neville grinned from ear to ear, and whispered, "Hi mum." Alice smiled back at him, and squeezed Neville's hand back. She reached her other hand up and ran it through her grey hair.

Neville's grandmother sighed. "This is going to take forever." She whispered, to a healer with her hood raised above her face. "I'll be down on the first floor, Neville. Come down in a few minutes."

Neville nodded, not taking his eyes off of his mother. She seemed to recognize him, much more than Frank at least. A flicker of fear appeared in her eyes as she saw the healer with her face covered. She groaned and shut her eyes tight, squeezing Neville's hand to the point of discomfort. Neville turned to see the healer, who was bustling out of the room. "It's okay, she's gone." He said, scooting the stool he was sitting on in slightly. Alice, turned back around, and Neville saw tears stream from her eyes. "Mum, its okay…"

The friendly healer returned and sighed as she saw Alice crying. "Oh dear, maybe she should just take another nap… Lord knows what she's crying about this time… Your grandmother is waiting for you… You might want to"

"I'll be there in a second." Neville said, not turning to the healer. "Don't give her a potion, I think I can get her to go back to sleep." The healer nodded, and made her way over to Frank, who was now ripping up a picture of Gilderoy Lockhart. Turning back to Alice, Neville smiled, and whispered, "Don't worry, mum. It'll all be okay." He took a big breath and started singing softly, a song that he remembered his mother, father and grandmother singing to him at separate times.

"_Nothing's gonna harm you,_

_Not while I'm around._

_Nothing's gonna harm you,_

_No sir._

_Not while I'm around._

_Demons are prowling everywhere now'adays._

_I'll send 'em howling_

_I don't care, I've got ways._

_No one's gonna hurt you._

_No one's gonna dare._

_Others can desert you._

_Not to worry, whistle,_

_I'll be there._

_Demons'll charm you with a smile_

_For a while._

_But in time_

_Nothing can harm you _

_Not while I'm around."_

He smiled softly as he felt Alice's hand go limp and watched her curl up peacefully. Her eyes slowly closed, but she suddenly waved her hand and sat up. Reaching to her bedside table and pulled a little card. She slapped it in Neville's hand and laughed innocently. Neville grinned, "Love you, mum." He whispered, taking a look at what his mother gave him. Half of a chocolate frog card lay in his open palm. He could read _Albus Dumbledore_ across the top, and watched Dumbledore's large frame attempting to fit itself into the half of the card. He laughed and pocketed it, trotting towards the door.

Gran turned a deep shade of red as Neville appeared on the bottom step. "Well, it took you _long_ enough." She snapped, the vulture on her hat wobbling dangerously. When he was a child, Neville always thought that was a warning sign that it was about to fall off, but after quite a few years of that vulture supposedly about to fall off, he realized it was magically suspended. "Well, c'mon. To the fire with you! We still have to get all of your school things… Merlin knows why the school took so long with the letters…"

"I'm sure Dumbledore was just preoccupied." Neville responded, with a quick roll of his eyes. "I mean, he — OOF!" Suddenly knocked off of his feet, Neville stumbled backwards and had to grab the shoulder of a young witch who was clinging to the leg of her father.

The healer, who was previously in Ward 49, bustled by, grunting only a "sorry" for knocking Neville down.

Huffily, Neville pushed himself up and straightened his cloak. "I'm going… I'm going…" He continued, passing by his Gran and taking a pinch of Floo Powder off a little vase next to the fire place. "To The Leaky Cauldron!" He shouted, throwing the pinch of powder into the flames.

The musty old pub was crowded with so many wizards that Neville had a hard time pushing his way out of the fire place. Almost half of the people there were Hogwarts students. Apparently, Dumbledore wasn't slow on only his letter.

"Merlin's beard!" Neville's grandmother exclaimed, again landing loudly in the fire. "There isn't room in here to swing a kneazle! EXCUSE ME!" She pushed her way passed a girl who Neville recognized as Hannah Abbot, a Hufflepuff in his year. "Hurry up, Neville. We still have to get you a new wand."

Neville smiled weakly. He knew he shouldn't be happy that he had broken his father's wand, but he always had an urge to get a wand of his own. He never had the feeling of warmth under his fingers that he heard the professors explain so many times. Finally, they made their way out of the stuffy Leaky Cauldron and reached the court yard. Whipping out her wand, Gran tapped a brick, and took a step back. She nodded, obviously satisfied with the speed of the bricks' rearrangement.

The alley was even more crowded than the Leaky Cauldron. Students shouted frantically to their parents as they pushed their way out of a shop. Gran let out a frustrated whiff of air, as she, once again, snatched Neville's wrist and strutted through the crowd. "Excuse me, we have somewhere _important_ to go!" Finally, a path cleared and his grandmother marched through.

Neville beamed as he looked through the window. Wand boxes of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, piling up so high that he could hardly see the top. "Well, I er-" Gran coughed nervously. "I think you can handle it from here. I'll be getting you a new set of dragon hide gloves. Merlin knows why you had to continue Herbology…" She continued her rant about Herbology, and Neville could have sworn he heard her say something about dirt under his fingernails. Gran had always gotten rather huffy when he had ever said something about Ollivander's. He had always thought that she had a bit of a self esteem problem when she was not the oldest one there.

"Excuse me?" A bell on the creaky door tinkled softly, muffled by the dust in the shop. Shutting the door behind him, he continued. "I would like to buy a-"

"A wand?" Mr. Ollivander appeared behind him, his breath quivering. "What else would you be here for?"

"Well-"

"Stand there." Mr. Ollivander pointed to the center of the room and waited for Neville to comply. Neville did what he was told silently, and watched Mr. Ollivander go along with his business. He waved his right hand, and a drawer opened. An obviously magical tape measure flew out and began measuring Neville's height, skull, girth, and everything else imaginable. A quill scribbled down the measurements, and Mr. Ollivander stood stiffly, waiting for the tape measure to finish its job. His hollow, grey eyes never left Neville's. Finally, the tape measure returned to the drawer, and the quill lay itself down on the desk, and Mr. Ollivander budged.

"A Longbottom?" He inquired as he shuffled through the wand boxes. Neville nodded slowly. "Yes… you look just like your mother." He pulled out a rather short box and pulled out a stumpy wand, slapping it in Neville's hand. "Well, no doubt you used your father's wand, and … I'm assuming you broke it? So you need a new one." He cleared his throat, and tapped the tip of the short wand he had given Neville. "So, give it a wave. Lacewood, seven inches, dragon heart string."

Neville waved it hopefully, but was immediately disappointed as absolutely nothing happened. "No…" Ollivander said, snatching it back and reaching for another box. "Try this. Rosewood, sixteen inches, phoenix feather." Neville took it hopefully, but before he could even try to wave it, Mr. Ollivander had taken it back, shaking his head.

His patients running low, Neville waved a very long series of wands, woods including Pink Ivory, Ash, Hazel, Hornbeam, Maple, Oak, and Willow. Finally, Mr. Ollivander pulled out a wand box, that made Neville's inside jump with excitement once he saw it. "Ebony, Dragon Heart String, Fourteen inches." Ollivander said through a sigh.

Neville pulled it out of the box and wrapped his fingers around the handle. It fit perfectly, like it was custom made for him. He waved it gracefully, and a wave of red and black sparks shot out of the tip. Warmth tingled the tips of his fingers, and he laughed softly with glee.

Mr. Ollivander raised an overly-bushy eyebrow. He nodded slowly and made his way over to the cash register, age apparent by each wrinkled line on his face. "That would be eight Galleons, please." He said stiffly. As Neville fished through his pockets to find the gold, Mr. Ollivander continued. "This is rather interesting… Very powerful wand… _Extremely_ powerful… In fact, it's almost as powerful as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's wand. Hopefully, this one will be in better hands…" He cleared his throat, as he placed the wand in an official looking shopping back. "Oh, of course it will." He decided. "Good day, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville swallowed a lump growing in his throat. He really didn't think that he, of all people, would end up with a wand almost as powerful as You-Know-Whose. As he pushed the door open, his grandmother seemed to appear out of thin air. "Hurry up!" She said briskly. "I'll be at Gringott's. Go get your new robes, Neville." And with a swish of her cloak, she was lost in the crowd. The only way Neville knew she hadn't Apparated was a large stuffed vulture slowly making its way towards the wizards' bank.

Luckily, Madam Malkin's was near by to Ollivander's, and it wasn't a painfully frustrating walk to get his new robes. Finally, he made it into the magically air conditioned store and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his sweater. "Are you here for new Hogwarts robes, dear?" Madam Malkin asked, lifting her head at Neville's appearance. Neville nodded in response, and allowed himself to be pushed into the measuring room. "So, just stand there on that stool, and we'll come and fit you."

"Neville?" A redheaded boy, his age was getting fitted on a stool near his. Ron Weasley stood, arms outstretched as a witch worked on the sleeves on a new set of robes. "What are you doing here, Neville?"

"New robes." Neville responded, stepping up to the stool also. "Mine got ripped at – at – well, you know."

Ron nodded, understanding what he meant immediately. "Mine, also. Me' parents finally agreed to get me my own robes, instead of hand-me-downs." A grin reached from each side of his freckled face. "It'll be nice to have robes that fit properly, for once. So, Neville, what have you been doing all summer? Anything interesting?"

Neville shook his head, deciding not to tell Ron about Bellatrix Lestrange. He had probably read the Daily Prophet and knew what was happening. "Nothing really. Just relaxing, I guess." He shrugged, much to the annoyance of the witch who was fitting his robe. "Is the rest of your family here?"

"Nah," Ron said, with a wave of his hand. "They're back at The Burrow. Hermione, Harry, Ginny and I are staying at the Leaky Cauldron over night. We decided it wasn't worth getting back home, and having to come back to London tomorrow, anyway."

"H-Hermione is here?" Neville asked, suddenly getting rather flustered.

"Yeah."

"Oh…" Neville shifted uncomfortably. The witch fitting Ron's robes finished, and he stepped off the stool.

"I'll meet you out in the front room, okay?" Ron said, as he headed towards the door.

Neville nodded again, and waited for his robes to be finished. "Alright, dear." The witch said, standing up. "I think you're all done."

While he and Ron paid they made friendly conversation about their summer vacations, and stepped out of the store into the hot, crowded alley. "NEVILLE!" Gran's vulture hat came into view, and Neville turned a deep shade of scarlet immediately. "Neville, did you get your robes? Oh good. Well, if you just hand me some of those bags, I'm going to head home." She gave him a little pouch. "Floo Powder to get home." She explained. "Buy your books, see your friends, and be home before dinner. You have an early start tomorrow."

Handing his new robes and wand over to his grandmother, Neville calculated how much time he had left before dinner started. Deciding he had a good chunk of time, he waved to his Gran and turned to Ron. "So, to the Leaky Cauldron?" Ron nodded enthusiastically, and they pushed their way through the crowd.

After about fifteen minutes of claustrophobic struggling, they finally reached the pub. It was much less crowded than before, though it wasn't saying much. Neville spotted his friends from Gryffindor house immediately. Ginny ran over to her brother and grinned the same freckled, toothy grin as Ron when she saw Neville. "Hi." She said with a nervous giggle. "They've been at it all day, I need a break."

"At what? Are they having a fight?" Neville asked curiously.

"Worse than that." Ron scrunched up his nose and pointed to the table where Ginny was previously sitting.

The-Boy-Who-Lived, sat there with a sideways smile on his face. He ran a hand through his ruffled hair as he spoke to Hermione. His scar was even more vivid than usual, as though someone had put a white hot poker to it. Hermione seemed to be in such an intent conversation, that she didn't even notice Neville's appearance. Harry didn't either, which thoroughly confused Neville. Harry was usually so observant.

Shrugging it off, he turned back to Ron, noticing for the first time how considerably taller the red head was than him. "What's going on?" He asked, very confused.

"They've been this close ever since that day at the ministry." Ron responded, somewhat awkwardly. "And they're only getting closer. I think he's going to ask her-"

Just as he said that, Harry leaned in slowly to Hermione and kissed her softly on the lips. Neville turned a deep shade of crimson as he saw this, feeling his insides flutter angrily. Why had Hermione agreed to go out with Harry? What was so special about him anyway…?

"Oh, never mind." Ron said with a frustrated sigh.

Ginny giggled at this and rolled her eyes playfully. "Can you see why I'm annoyed?" She asked, crossing her arms. "They've been doing the same thing all day…"

Neville didn't listen, however. He just stared down at his worn tennis shoes thoughtfully. _She wouldn't have gone out with me anyway… she didn't when I asked her… She has no interest in a klutz… My life is amounting to nothing…_

"Er-" He bit his lip. "I-I think I'm going to Flourish and Blott's before I have to go."

"Okay." Ron said cheerfully. "We'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Bye, Neville!" Ginny said with a quick blush.

With a disappointed sigh, Neville walked down Diagon Alley. It was much less crowded now, and he could actually see the cobble stoned road. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he hummed quietly to himself as he passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, The Apothecary, and the Magical Menagerie. The sun was setting behind wizarding stores, casting a shadow in the entire alley. Finally, he reached Flourish and Blott's and pushed the door open.

The sent of tidy scroll filled the entire shop as he made his way to the front counter. "Hi." He said weakly to the wizard working in the shop. "Could you please get me these books?" He placed his letter on the counter and slid it over to the employee. The man nodded and shuffled off to the back room.

Neville turned and walked slowly passed the many shelves, searching for the Herbology section. He found it, and sat down in the middle of the two shelves. He pulled out a particularly thick volume, entitled _Poisonous Plants of Africa and the Middle East_ and began to read. Incredible illustrations filled each page along with cramped writing. It was clear that this volume held as much information as physically possible for something of its size.

The bell attached to the door tinkled, and Neville looked up. Quickly realizing that it was just the door, he returned to the book.

"_The Inficipuff is a plant more dangerous than its appearance. It is almost indistinguishable from a Mandrake from ground level, but once dug up, it does not have the rough appearance of a human child. Instead, it has the appearance of a spider. Each of its legs has the ability to break off, with stings on the foot. It is said that the Inficipuff was created by experimental pollination between a Mandrake and a Telesign."_

Fascinated by this strange plant, Neville was flipping through the book to read up on Telesigns, a plant he was only vaguely familiar with. "Neville?" A quiet whisper interrupted his thoughts. Looking up, he saw Hermione standing there, hands in her pockets and a small smile on her face. "You didn't say hi to me earlier. Ginny told me that you were in the Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh," Neville said, standing up and marking his page in the book. "Well, y-you seemed kind of busy…" He shuffled his left foot awkwardly back and forth. "Er… but anyway, how was your summer?"

"It was okay." Hermione said with a small grimace. "I'm very happy to go back to Hogwarts, though. I was missing using my wand." She laughed nervously, and looked down at her shoes. "I-I haven't talked to you since… well, since-"

"Yeah." Neville interrupted. "It's been a while. So, I saw you with Harry. You two seemed really happy."

"Oh, it's nothing." Hermione managed to say while she repressed a giggle fit. "Well, not it isn't nothing." Her face turned the same shade of scarlet as Neville's, and she smiled toothily. "Over the summer, we just realized how much we have in common. How much we fit together. We're like the perfect pair, you know?"

It took a lot of concentration to fight back his tears. "Y-yeah, I know." Neville never understood how Hermione had never noticed how he felt for her. Hadn't he been painfully obvious? Even since the first day that they met on the Hogwarts Express, he had been very flustered whenever he was around her.

_An eleven year old girl sat in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express alone. Bushy hair surrounded her petite face like a picture frame. She sighed as she looked out the window. Suddenly, a boy came blundering by. His face was rounder than average, and he was a little on the chubby side._

"_Er, h-h-have you seen a toad?" Neville stuttered nervously, ringing his hands together. "M-my Gran'll kill me if she finds out I lost him again… Great Uncle Algie when really out of his way to get him for me and – oh, I mean… I'm sorry."_

_The girl laughed politely. "No, I'm sorry. I haven't. But I'll help you look. I would hate for you to get in trouble." She stood up and straightened out her neat little skirt. "My name is Hermione Granger." She said, extending her hand for Neville to shake; which he did, realizing a few seconds later that had shaken her hand for a few seconds to long._

"_I'm Neville Longbottom." He said, putting his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. He stepped out of the compartment and looked back and forth. "D'ya want to go this way, then?" He asked, pointing to the right. Hermione nodded and he started walking. "So, are you a pureblood? Or a halfblood? Or a muggleborn?"_

"_Er," Hermione said, shrugging to herself. "I… I don't really know."_

"_Are your parents magical?"_

"_OH!" Hermione nodded enthusiastically._ _"I know what you mean now. No, they're not. And neither is my sister. I didn't even think that magic existed until I got my letter a few months ago… My parents reckoned it was a joke, but we decided to go to Diagon Alley anyway, to see. We were so amazed to see that-" she stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry, my mouth gets faster than my head sometimes."_

_Neville shook his head. "I don't mind." He said with a smile. "Think we should check in here?" He pointed towards an official looking compartment._

_Hermione nodded and shrugged. "Sure, why not?"_

_Neville pushed the door open, and started to ask, "Has anybody seen a toad?" But didn't get past 'anybody.' A group of prefects sat, staring bitterly at the first year who dared to barge in on their meeting._

"_Who are you?" A seventh year asked rudely. He had a pin with a big 'HB' on it. "And why are you in the prefect compartment?"_

"_Er…" Neville stammered. "I-I-I was just looking for-for my toad. I didn't know this was th-the prefect compartment! Honest! If I did, I wouldn't have come in here, and-"_

"_Just go." The head boy demanded, pointing towards the door._

_Neville turned to Hermione and they shuffled out of the compartment. Once the door was safely shut, they turned to each other. Their grave expressions turned into grins immediately, as both of them bent over with laughter._

"_I-I-I think," Hermione wheezed through laughs. "We should keep looking. Or we're never going to get anything done." Neville nodded in agreement. "Maybe we should split up, now that we know what compartment not to go in. Okay, I'll go this way, and you can go that way. We can meet up in… say, thirty minutes?"_

"_Okay." Neville turned to the right, and passed the prefects compartment. Thirty minutes passed, and he still found nothing. He returned, very disheveled and spotted Hermione waiting for him. "Did you find him?"_

"_No." She said, disappointedly._

"_Me either. I think I saw Harry Potter, though." Neville said, trying to appear excited._

"_Oh, really?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. "M-maybe we should take each others' sides. A new eye sometimes does the trick."_

"_I suppose." Neville said with a shrug. But as Hermione turned to leave, he followed her quietly. He didn't know why she thought it was necessary to recheck the place that he had examined so carefully, but was dying of curiosity to find out._

_Once she reached Harry Potter's compartment, he stood in the shadows, watching everything. From the beginning, she seemed to like him. He could tell, she had the same expressions as he had when he saw her. When she started to leave, Neville dashed to the spot where they had met up, and sat down, looking as though he had been waiting for her._

"_Any luck?" He asked._

"_Er, no." Hermione said quietly._

Since that day, Neville had never been able to get Hermione's attention when Harry was around. It infuriated him. He knew her longer. He had trusted her while Harry had been fighting with her…

"Neville?" Hermione had her hand on Neville's shoulder.

He felt his heart skip a beat as he closed his eyes. "Er, yeah?" He said, reopening them.

"You okay? You got really quiet."

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just… pensive." He sighed and picked up his book. "I-I have to go." He started to leave, but Hermione was accidentally blocking his path. For a few seconds, they got caught in the awkward situation of being unable to get out of the lock, when finally, Neville stepped a little too far to the right. The shelf wobbled dangerously, but thankfully didn't fall. A few heavy volumes fell off of their shelf and landed loudly on the ground.

Blushing heavily, he walked past Hermione and to the front. He placed the book he had been reading on top of the books for school, and tapped his foot anxiously as the wizard rung him up. Finally, Neville handed him the gold and took his books. Trotting out of the store, he stopped once he reached the safety of the outdoors.

As he began on his way down Diagon Alley, he turned to the lit windows of Flourish and Blott's, seeing a shadow with very bushy hair facing the window. He sped up, and passed the old bookshop quickly.

Night at Diagon Alley was nothing like it in the day. It had a little bit of an eerie feeling about it. A group of cackling Cornish pixies whizzed past his ear. A few minutes later, a bat screeched into the darkness. Speeding up, Neville reached the Leaky Cauldron and sighed. He reached the fireplace, and pulled out the pouch his grandmother had given him. Taking the pinch of Floo Powder that was inside, he threw it into the flames.

"The Longbottom's!"


	2. A Lonely Return Home

Through a Hero's Eyes

Chapter Two: A Lonely Return Home

"_He was never mine to lose… why regret what cannot be? These are words he'll never say, not to me. Not to me. Not for me, his heart full of love. He will never feel this way."_ –Eponine, Les Miserables

* * *

For the third time that day, Neville landed clumsily in the fireplace of his home. Ducking his head, he stepped out of the flames and brushed his cloak off. "It's about time…" his grandmother said from the kitchen. "Dinner is almost ready." She waved her wand and a magical oven opened itself, pulling out what looked like fresh baked bread. As she put her wand away, Gran walked out of the kitchen and sighed as she saw Neville. "Oh, look at you. You're a mess." Neville looked down. He was covered in soot and ash. "Go upstairs and change."

Neville obeyed, stepping away from the fireplace. Once his grandmother had busied herself with the cooking, he stopped at sat down on a stool, his mind racing. He sighed as he examined the fireplace that he was already so familiar with. Stones lined the wall, with candleholders protruding from it. A stone crow sat atop each candleholder. He stood back up, and ran a finger over the dusty crow; for some reason, he had always believed that they were alive.

"Neville?" Gran walked over to him, polishing a silver goblet. "Have you changed yet? Oh, of course you haven't." She sighed and put the goblet down on a table. "Well, what are you waiting for?" She tapped him on the shoulder a few times. "Go on, before you dinner gets cold!"

Neville stood up silently and started heading upstairs. The stairs beneath his feet creaked as he climbed. He reached his room, and pushed the door open. He switched a magical light that his Great Uncle Algie installed for him. Light from no apparent source illuminated up his messy room. Trevor sat on his bed, croaking loudly. "Hi, Trevor," Neville said weakly. The toad croaked in response. His school trunk lay open, with all of his new robes folded neatly in it. Placing his new books, except for _Poisonous Plants of Africa and the Middle East, _he sat down on his desk.

With a sigh, he looked down at his lap. He'd tried everything to get Hermione's attention in the past almost six years. He could count over nine times when he had put a jinx on himself, saying it was Malfoy and asking Hermione for help. She had, of course, taught him the counter spell… which he already knew, unless things went horribly wrong. And although he was never very good at potions, he was much better than Hermione thought he was. In every potions class since his first year, he had done something ridiculous like mix it clockwise instead of counter, and asked Hermione for her help. He always thought – or wished – that through helping him, she would realize how good it feels to have somebody need you… But, of course, she hadn't. She never picked up on any of his hints.

But in his second year, he realized that he was stuck with the reputation of a klutz. He was always forgetful, but he was much smarter than he was given credit for. He realized that by suddenly getting better at magic and potions, Hermione would know he lied to her, and she would never trust him again. At least this way, she wouldn't completely despise him.

An owl, no bigger than his fist, swooped through the window, cawing loudly. Neville chuckled as he walked over to the owl, saying, "Hey Pig." The owl hooted proudly and landed on his desk, holding out his miniscule foot with a letter way too big for him. He untied the letter and ran over to his bed, sitting down cheerfully as he began to read the letter. The carefully written scrawl gave away its sender immediately. Ginny's handwriting filled three pages of parchment.

_Dear Neville,_

_I know I just saw you a few hours ago, but I hardly got to talk to you. So much has happened over the last few months that you absolutely need to hear about._

The letter continued to explain the Weasley family happenings. Neville enjoyed Ginny's description of Fred and George's store. He had completely forgotten to check it when he went to Diagon Alley. Two more pages of parchment were filled up with more stories of her summer vacation.

_Well, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Meet me at the Platform ten minutes before eleven, okay?_

_Ginny_

Neville smiled and slid the letter into his pocket. He had always been really good friends with Ginny. With six older brothers, she knew what it was like to be ignored and sometimes have to lie to cover her back. She was the only one who he trusted to keep his secret. And even still, he never told her about his parents… Something about the idea of her knowing his past always frightened him.

His mind turned directly to when he asked Ginny to the Yule Ball. He had asked Hermione, but of course she refused. Why would she accept? Doing absolutely anything to avoid the awkwardness of being the only one without a date, he asked his best friend to the ball. Ginny had accepted almost too gladly for comfort.

* * *

_Neville's quill scratched across parchment as he slaved over his Divination homework… "On a week from Friday… I'll meet a friend who…" He leaned over and checked his book. "Who before had gone unnoticed…" he scribbled down as he mumbled it aloud. He had always had trouble with his divination homework. Something about making up the future confused him._

_The portrait closed loudly, and Ginny stumbled in the common room, looking rather frustrated. "Oh, hi, Nev," she said, referring to the nickname that Neville had hated most of all. She giggled and sat down opposite him on a large armchair._

"_Hey," he responded, not taking his eyes off the paper. "What have you been up to?" But before Ginny could respond, he gasped loudly. "Oh, wait. I have something to ask you." He cleared his throat nervously. "Err… w-would you like to go to the Y-Yule Ball with me?" he asked, sitting on his hands._

_Ginny's face lightened up immediately. "Yes!" she said, her light blue eyes glittering with excitement. "Er, I mean… yeah. I-I would!"_

_Neville grinned also, and laid his quill down on the desk. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Mmm I think I'm done with as much Divination as I can handle right now. I think I'll start on Transfiguration. I'll be right back, have to grab my book." Ginny nodded, and Neville walked briskly over to the dorms._

_He rummaged through his trunk, and finally found his Transfiguration book. As he wandered down the stairs, he heard familiar voices. He heard Ron exclaim to Harry that Neville had asked Hermione… Blushing a deep shade of red, he took a few steps up the stairs to eavesdrop. Their laughter tore him to pieces. His face turned stark white, and then deep red again in a matter of seconds when Ginny began to defend him. He had trusted Ron when he told him… And he went and told Harry… and then laughed about it… _

"_That prat…" Neville hissed, clenching his fists with anger. He listened to the rest of their conversation sourly. Until… Hermione told them that she was going with somebody else… "Oh who?" Neville whispered to himself._

_A few more minutes of conversation, and then Ginny said something that made his heart stop. She had said that she only said yes because she wouldn't be able to go otherwise…? Neville couldn't believe it, he knew that Ginny was probably helping him out in a bind, but he didn't think that she was using him…_

_Tears welled up in his eyes, and he slammed his book down on the ground, sprinting back up to his dorm.

* * *

_

"NEVILLE!" Gran appeared in the doorway, the vulture on her hat quivering dangerously. "Neville, what is taking you so long? Your dinner is getting cold!"

Neville blushed and stood up. "Sorry," he murmured. "I-I got an owl and-"

"And you didn't even wash up!" Neville let his shoulders droop, and laced his fingers behind his back. "Well, we don't have time for that now, just come down and finish your soup before it gets cold."

Dinner was silent, as usual. Gran had never liked to talk much while she ate. Sipping his soup quietly, Neville stared out the window, his nerves building for the following day. Finally, they finished the vegetable soup that Gran had prepared and she said, "Neville, you have an early start tomorrow. I suggest you head to bed."

As she shooed him out of the kitchen, he noticed a shadow lurking outside the window and stopped. In an instant, the shadow disappeared and he shook his head. It was just a stupid cat or something… nothing to worry about.

He reached his room, and quickly changed into his pajamas. Sliding into his bed, he reread the letter that Ginny had sent him. His heart skipped a beat with excitement. He was going to Hogwarts tomorrow…

* * *

The sun rising woke him up that day. Stirring in his sleep, Neville murmured something that sounded like, "Mmm just give me five more minutes…" Suddenly, he shot up to sitting up straight. School started today! Hopping out of his bed, he ran to his dresser and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a pair of muggle jeans, and a dark green sweater. Changing quickly, he shut the drawer and searched frantically for Trevor.

The toad was lurking under his toilet, looking as though he just had a run in with a particularly nasty cat. "C'mon, Trevor," Neville said, picking his toad up. He turned down the light switch and ran down the stairs, just managing not to fall by grabbing the banister. "Gran!" he shouted, putting Trevor on the table. Gran appeared from her room on the first floor in hot pink nightgown. She sighed as she saw Neville already changed and returned to her room immediately. They had done this every year. Gran always seemed to forget that she had to change into her muggle clothes, and he would have to remind her.

After about seven minutes, she walked back out of her room in a long red skirt, clogs, and a neon orange blouse. Neville had to stuff a fist in his mouth to stop his laughter. Gran had never really been the best at fitting in with muggles. "Here, Gran." He held out a plain black coat. "It-it's cold out," he said, handing it to her. She didn't have to know how ridiculous she looked.

After a quick breakfast of toast and orange juice, they walked about a mile to the muggle underground. Neville's trunk seemed to grab some attention, but he just kept his mouth shut. Muggles had the ability to cover up questions with their own invented logical answers. The train slowed to a stop, and the muggle driving said, "Kings Cross."

As Gran pushed the crowd aside, Neville dragged his trunk behind them, murmuring hurried apologies. He would give anything to be able to perform a simple levitating charm. After passing a good amount of curious muggles, they finally arrived at the barrier between platform nine and platform ten. He bid his goodbyes to Gran, and gave her a quick hug before casually slipping between the barriers.

"Oi! Neville!" Ron came jogging up to him.

"Where's Hermione?" Neville suddenly asked, a moment later realizing how strange he must have sounded.

"Er, she's on the train with Harry," Ron answered, acting as though that wasn't a very strange thing to say so suddenly. "C'mon, the train's going to leave any minute." He waved frantically as he hopped onto the scarlet train. Neville followed, grabbing onto a banister for balance. After passing by many nervous first years, they arrived at their compartment.

Harry and Hermione stood up suddenly when Ron and Neville entered. "Oh, er, here let me help you with that," Harry said, gesturing to Neville's trunk. Between them, Neville and Harry managed to lift it high enough for Ron to tip it onto the over head rack, while Hermione cooed the over excited Crookshanks.

The train started moving, and Neville leaned back in his seat. "Oh, Hermione," Ron said. "We have to head to the prefects' compartment." Hermione nodded and stood up. As she and Ron bustled out of the small compartment, Harry just sighed and cleared his throat.

"I-I think I'm going to look for the food cart," he said. Neville didn't want to point out that it was only eleven, and not a good time for candy, so instead he just shrugged.

It was only about ten minutes after Harry left, when another red head appeared in the doorway to the compartment. "You didn't meet me on the platform," Ginny said, with a sideways smile.

"Sorry," Neville said with a shrug.

"Did you get my letter last night?" Neville reached into his pocket and showed her the folded up pieces of parchment. "You're still carrying that around with you?" Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows.

Neville nodded and laughed. "Yeah, my favorite part was about the joke shop."

Their casual conversation continued for a few hours, until Ginny finally brought up the topic he was trying to avoid. "So, did you see the warning about Lestrange in the Prophet, yesterday?" she asked, too casually.

Neville cleared his throat. "Er… yeah, I did… But I don't think- I mean, I doubt that she – er…"

"We're back!" Hermione announced, appearing in the doorway. "It was a quick meeting." She sat down next to Ginny and crossed her legs. "Hey!" She pulled a small golden locket out of her pocket. "Look at the new locket my parents got for an early birthday present. I'm amazed they had the nerve to buy something magical!"

"W-what does it do?" Neville asked, leaning in to examine it closer.

"It helps protect everybody I care about," Hermione answered brightly. "Of course, it can't save anyone from everything, but I'm pretty sure it can give them an extra boost of strength. And it also shows the person I'm thinking about right now."

"I bet it wouldn't protect me…" Neville whispered.

But nobody heard, Ginny was reaching over to see the locket and opened it. Harry's face smiled back at her, and she laughed, giving it back to Hermione. "I see your thinking of Harry… _still_."

Hermione blushed and laughed also, pulling the gold chain around her head. "Aww, 'Mione, that's sweet." Harry appeared in the doorway, with a sly grin.

"Shut _up_, Harry," Hermione said playfully.

And the train ride continued like that… for five hours. Neville was extremely relieved when he had an excuse to leave for seven minutes because he had to change into his robes. By the time the train finally slowed, Neville, Ginny and Ron all looked as if they were stuck in double Divination. "It's over!" Ron shouted, jumping up. "Er, I mean…" He bit his lip as he turned to Hermione, who was staring at him disapprovingly. "W-we're here… I-I'm starving. The sorting better be _fast_." Hermione seemed to think that was an acceptable answer, and stood up also.

With Trevor clutched in his right hand, Neville began to leave the compartment. Hermione was only a few steps away from him, and he jogged them to catch up. "Hey, would you like to sit in a carriage with me?"

"What?" Hermione asked, turning to him.

His question was masked by all of the commotion, and of course, the usual call of, "FIRS' YEARS! THIS WAY! FIRS' YEARS!" coming from the bank of the lake.

"Neville, what did you say?" Hermione shouted over Hagrid's booming voice.

"I said," he began, shouting full volume. "Would you like to sit in a carriage with-"

"SORRY!" A crowd of bustling seventh years, pushed her out of the way, and she was lost in the mass of people.

Neville swore quietly and began to make his way to one of the carriages. Ginny appeared behind him, and said, "There's one right there." Neville would have jumped a foot in the air, if that hadn't meant he would lose his tiny spot in the crowd when he landed. He turned to the carriage that Ginny was talking to and climbed in before anybody else could get in. Ginny followed, and they settled in their seats.

He just sat in silence and stared out the window at a group of nine first years struggling to get in one boat. It was only a matter of minutes before Hagrid came in and split them up. Biting the inside of his mouth thoughtfully, he turned his attention to the Thestrals who had just started to pull the carriages towards the castle. He had seen them since his first year, but had never said anything about it until the previous term. He always thought there was something wrong with him; little did he know it was a fantastic creature that only a handful of people could see.

When he was eleven, his nightmares were full of these strange creatures. Their haunting presence never leaving his once peaceful sleep alone. He was extremely relieved when Hagrid explained that they were nothing dangerous. And yet, he still had regular nightmares of their pupil-less eyes. Their fur growing straight out of their skeletons swayed in the wind, which was picking up. Wings with the same consistency as dragon hide were folded back, to keep them out of the way. Hagrid's training was evident. Neville had never run into a thestral in the wild, but he was sure that the only reason that he was able to successfully ride them was because of Hagrid's work.

Hogwarts castle loomed ahead, casting a shadow over the approaching students. When they all halted to a stop, it once again became extremely crowded with students. Neville and Ginny pushed their way through a particularly loud group of second years, and into to Entrance Hall.

"Well, if it isn't Longbottom!" Draco Malfoy emerged from the crowd and sneered at Neville. He turned to Ginny and raised his pale eyebrows. "Do my eyes deceive me?" he asked sarcastically. "Mini Weaslekins? With Longbottom? I can't believe it, Longbottom's got a girlfriend!" He turned to Crabbe and Goyle who were chuckling stupidly behind him. "I must say, you have some pretty bad taste, Longbottom."

"Shut up, Ferret Face!" Ginny shouted, turning a deeper shade of red than the common room.

Malfoy sniggered coldly. "Ooh, touchy touchy... I'll tell you-"

"What'll you tell him, Gel Head?" Peeves came bobbing above their heads. He held out a rather large dung bomb over Malfoy's head. "BOMBS AWAY!" he squealed, dropping the dung bomb. It landed perfectly in the center of his head and set off immediately.

"PEEVES!" Professor McGonagall came bursting through a crowd of disgusted third years. "Peeves, if I told you _once_ I've told you a _million_ times!" She pulled off her square framed glasses, polished them on her cloak, and put them back on. "You are not allowed to terrorize the students on the first day!"

"Aww is Micky-Gone-Gaul angry at poor Peeves?" His face fell, sarcastically of course, and crossed his arms.

"Yes, _Micky-Gone-Gaul_ IS!" McGonagall put her hands on her hips and stared sternly up at Peeves. "Now get in the castle before I get the Bloody Barron!"

Peeves blew an extremely large raspberry, accompanied by a very rude hand gesture, and flew cackling to the castle.

"Right." McGonagall said, putting her hat over her painfully tight bun. "Well, what are all of you waiting for?" she snapped at the gazing students. "You're blocking the path."

There was a collective groan and all of the students pushed their way passed Neville, Ginny, and Malfoy who were still glaring at each other. Angrily, Neville stormed away and into the Entrance Hall. "Neville!" Ginny caught up, her hair suddenly messy, as though she had to crawl under some people's legs to get there.

"What?" he asked, spinning around so fast that his hair blew in his created wind.

"Y-you shouldn't get so worked up… It's Malfoy, you know how he is…" Neville turned around and continued walking.

He spotted Hermione sitting next to Harry with an empty spot next to her. He jogged a few feet to sit down, but before he could make it, Ron sat there instead. Defeated, Neville sighed and sat down a few seats away, soon accompanied by Ginny. She whispered something he couldn't understand, so he just shrugged and turned to the masses of first years now filing in.

The sorting passed extraordinarily slowly that term. Dumbledore was the only one who showed no flicker of boredom in his crystal blue eyes. For every new student sorted, he applauded just as enthusiastically. Finally, when "Zelikowsky, Kaitlyn!" got sorted into Ravenclaw, Dumbledore stood up to make his usual start of term announcements.

"Welcome, one and all, to a new term at Hogwarts!" He smiled and continued. "This term, I am proud to announce, we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, Tiberius Proditirus." A polite clap followed, as a few students exchanged glances. Neville turned, hoping that he would be able to catch one with Hermione, but she was staring intently at Dumbledore. As he turned, he saw Harry's eyes narrow a considerable amount, until his eyes appeared closed.

Tilting his head slightly to the side, Neville shook it off and turned back to Dumbledore. "I would like to remind everyone that the forest at the edge of the grounds is strictly forbidden. Any student caught there will suffer detentions, loss of house points, and possible suspension."

As Dumbledore continued, Neville glanced back at the new Professor. His eyes were such a frightening shade of grey that they seemed almost made them seem colorless. They darted back and forth so quickly, however, that it was almost impossible to tell. He had an unnaturally thin frame, and mousey, dirty blonde hair the color of dust. Something about this man sparked a distant memory in Neville's mind, but he couldn't decide what it was.

"And Filch would like me to remind you," Dumbledore brought him back to reality. "That any student caught using skiving snack boxes, headless hats, nose biting tea cups or any inventions of the Weasley twins will have it confiscated immediately."

Neville laughed along with everybody, and ran his finger around the empty golden plate. He just realized how hungry he was. His stomach rumbled loudly, and Ginny turned to him, poking him playfully on the shoulder with a quick giggle.

"Let the feast begin!" Dumbledore's words echoed through the hall as the feast magically appeared on the plates.

As he piled brisket onto his plate, he thought again of his parents. He knew that when they were here, they got sorted into Gryffindor. He met the eyes of a new Gryffindor, and was surprised at how long she was able to stare back at him, before blushing and turning away.

"You know," he heard Hermione say. "I really think that we could cut the amount of food that the house elves made, it would still be-"

"Hermione," Ron interrupted. "Shut up. Please."

Hermione 'hmphed' very loudly, and crossed her arms. "I was just going to say that maybe we-"

"_Hermione!_" Harry put his fork down and turned to her. "We've had _enough_ of it."

Ginny giggled. Apparently, she had been listening too. "She'll never stop with that," she said, turning back to face Neville.

"Yeah…" Neville said distantly. "What? I mean, no, no she won't…"

His distance from Ginny's attempted conversations continued for the entire dinner, until Dumbledore stood up again and told them that they had a long day the next day, and that they should all head to bed. Benches scraped on the hard stone as everybody stood up to go to their common room.

* * *

His bed hadn't changed at all since the previous term. It was still positioned in between Ron's and Dean's and still as scarlet as ever. Neville flopped onto his bed, taking in the scents of home. "Oi, Neville!" Harry walked in the doorway, grinning. "Don't tell me you're going to bed already. We just got here!" He walked over to his four poster bed and sat down on it.

Neville stirred and sat up. "I think I ate too much," he said, rubbing his stomach.

"I bet!" Seamus followed Harry, laughing. "I saw you at the feast. You weren't even talking, you just kept eating!"

Neville blushed until he was camouflaged in his sheets. "Yeah, well I'm tired," he said softly. "I-I think I'm going to go to bed early." He sat up, and flung the top off of his trunk. Rummaging through the mess, he pulled out a pair of plain blue pajamas, and walked over to the bathroom.

He sighed as he looked at his reflection in the ancient mirror hanging above the sink. Once he was fully changed, he turned on the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. His dark hair fell down passed his eyes, and he dropped his school robes on the marble ground. With another exaggerated sigh, he reached down and picked it up.

When he reentered the dorm, it was completely empty. Surely all of the other boys in his year had gone down to celebrate. As though on cue, a loud cheer from downstairs assured his prediction. "'Least I don't have them bothering me…" Neville murmured to himself, trying not to feel offended that everybody just left.

He pulled down the crimson blankets to his bed and slid in between the sheets. Wind howled bitterly outside the tower, and owls swooped by, their speed accelerated from the wind. A loud hoot from the window made him twitch, half asleep. He stirred, as he heard laughter and footsteps headed towards the dorm. Quickly, he began pretending to snore, as not to be bothered.

"Ah, looks like Neville's _already_ fallen asleep!" Ron said with an overstated laugh.

"Nah, he never stays up long enough for any of the fun, anyway," Dean said, continuing Ron's laugh.

Neville felt his face grow hot with anger. Just because he liked to be alone, didn't mean that they had the right to make fun of him for it. _I'll tell them off later…_ He thought anxiously. _One of these days…

* * *

_

**AN: **Sorry that chapter took so long, guys! I've been having some beta troubles, considering my beta is moving and hardly has any computer access. Sorry if there are any typos, I tried my hardest to get them all.

Thank you to all of my reviewers! I simply _love_ reviews, so I really, _really_ appreciate it!

I'll get the next chapter up as soon as possible.

Eponine's Heir


	3. Back to Reality

Through a Hero's Eyes

Chapter Three: Back to Reality

"_And then, do you know, Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a little in love with you."_

Eponine, Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

* * *

The sun shone through the window, illuminating everything in the dorm to a magnificent shade of scarlet. Beams of light worked their way through the cracks in between the curtains around his bed, and lit up the insides of the four posters. Neville's eyes fluttered open, and he closed them again, a blissful smile spreading across his face. Before he could fall back asleep, he opened his eyes again, and sat up. He pulled open one of the curtains, and blinked the burning sunlight out of his eyes.

He opened his trunk and rummaged through everything that had been crammed in there. "Mmph," he murmured, throwing a few of his school books onto his bed. He'd have to organize them later that day, an event he was never very fond of. His bed creaked with age as his massive volumes were thrown onto them. Finally, he found his robes and an outfit he was satisfied with for the first day. As he began to change, he hummed a quiet song to himself to break the crusty silence.

He could hear stirring in one of the beds, and laughed out loud as Seamus emerged, his hair sticking straight up. "It's too early…" Seamus said with a cough. "What time is it?"

"Seven," Neville responded, busily picking up his new leather backpack and filling it with books. "Classes start in an hour. You might want to hurry up," he continued, tying closed the top of his bag.

"Oi! You three!" Seamus shouted to the rest of his sleeping dorm-mates. "Get up; we don't have a lot of time. Hurry up, hurry up!"

Dean woke up first, poking his head from his curtains. "Time already?" he asked sleepily. "Ah, we better hurry up… Harry! Ron! Get _up!_" he shouted, throwing his pillow across the room at Ron's bed.

Ron pulled back the curtains and glared at Dean. "Thanks for waking me up…"

"You can thank Seamus," Dean said, nodding towards Seamus. "He's the one who woke me up."

Ron turned to Seamus with raised eyebrows.

"Don't look at me!" He pointed towards Neville. "Nev woke me up!"

Neville turned a deep shade of red. He hated his nickname more than anything. "Well, would you have preferred to sleep through your first class?"

"YES!" Seamus, Dean, and Ron all shouted.

"'Specially if it's potions." Harry slipped out of his bed, laughing to himself. "Ron, you really are something, you know that? You get mad at Dean, Seamus, _and_ Nev for waking you up, when you go along and wake me up too."

They all laughed, except for Neville, who glared at Harry for using his ever so hated nickname; he had told them many times that he hated it, but that just made it all so much more fun to them. He checked his watch and raised his eyebrows. "Seven fifteen!" he announced, slipping on a navy blue sock. He slipped his shoe over it and swung his bag around his shoulders, heading towards the door. "I'll see you later." He slammed the door behind him and ran down the stairs.

"I've been waiting for you!" Ginny shouted, with a grin. Her brilliant red hair was pulled back with a few bobby pins into two glossy, yet casual braids. "I've been down here since six forty five! What's taken you so long?"

"Over slept," Neville responded with a grimace. "Everyone else is still sleeping. They're angry at me for waking them." He laughed, and put his hands in his pockets. "Sometimes I feel like if it weren't for me, they'd have detention every day."

"Well, good thing you're here," Ginny added.

"Well, should we head down to breakfast?" Neville asked, gesturing towards the portrait hole.

"That might be a good idea."

They both headed towards the portrait hole, backpacks around their shoulders. Neville let Ginny crawl through first, followed quickly after. Packs of first years bustled by nervously, slowing them down considerably. "Oh come on…" Neville heard Ginny whisper.

Finally, they reached the Great Hall and settled almost directly in the middle of the Gryffindor table. They could see Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson all sniggering about something at the Slytherin table across the hall. Neville narrowed his eyes, but Ginny just shrugged and began to pour orange juice into her goblet.

Neville picked up a piece of toast and began to butter it as a prefect walked by and handed out their schedules. "Herbology first!" he exclaimed, taking a bite out of his toast.

"You're lucky," Ginny responded, scrunching up her nose. "I have Divination first. I think I may pull a Hermione and drop it."

"You only have one year left," Neville pointed out, picking up a sausage. "Are you nervous for O.W.L year?"

"A little," she admitted. "But Hermione soared through hers, and she said she'd help me study, so I'm hoping it will be okay."

"It will be," Neville assured her. "You're definitely smart enough. Even without Hermione's help, I'm sure you'd pass with flying colors."

Ginny smiled at him, and started to respond, but Neville didn't hear it. All of her words were over powered by Harry and Ron's laugh from farther down the table.

"So," Neville overheard Ron say. "What's up with you and Hermione?" He stuffed a waffle, whole, in his mouth. "You two seem pretty … close," he continued once he had swallowed his mouth full of waffle. "Eh?" He nudged Harry playfully on the shoulder. "Eh? Eh?"

Harry had to put his goblet of orange down and swallow it before his juice could shoot its way out of his nose. "Yeah, how'd you notice?" he asked sarcastically. "Yeah, I asked her to the next Hogsmeade trip." A grin like no other lit up his face; his eyes twinkled their merry emerald. "And you? I think I've seen you around with somebody… I don't remember who though."

"Yeah, I've got some things going on," he said with a devilish grin.

"Oh?" Harry raised his dark eyebrows, losing them in his jet black mop of hair.

"Colleen Wilson," announced Ron proudly. "She's a Ravenclaw in our year. I never really noticed her until yesterday; you know when we were separated trying to get into the carriages. I ended up with her and some random Hufflepuffs who refused to talk. _Anyway_, we got to talking and…"

"And that's why you came into the beginning party in the common room late?" Harry interrupted, laughing quietly to himself.

"Something like that," Ron responded, joining in Harry's quiet chuckles.

Neville began to tune them out. He wasn't up for listening to then talk about their thriving love lives when he had been struggling since his first year. "Hey, Neville?" Ginny tapped on his shoulder a few times. "Maybe we should – Neville?"

Neville jumped, he had completely zoned out and was staring vaguely at a first year, who had shuffled away nervously under his unfocused gaze. "Wh-what?"

"Classes start in five minutes. You have to get all the way down to the greenhouses don't you?"

"Oh, you're right!" He stood up and swung his back around his shoulder nervously. "Good way to start off the day, though. I'll see you!" he said as they filed out of the Great Hall. When they finally got out of the hall, they bid their goodbyes and headed their own ways, Ginny to the towers, and Neville to the greenhouses.

Herbology was, in fact, the perfect way to begin the school year. The first lesson was on Inficipuffs, a subject that Neville was an expert on. He got to show off his knowledge on the first day. Finally, when the bell rang, he pulled off his dragon hide gloves, stuffed them in his bag, and headed out of the green house. He exchanged quick waves with Ginny as she headed down to Care of Magical Creatures. She was shortly followed by Pansy Parkinson who sneered at him, vanishing his smile immediately.

The walk up to Defense Against the Dark Arts was not the easiest he'd had. Frantic first years shuffling by to their next class. Finally, he reached the corridor and began pushing his way past. As he walked, he pulled out his new wand and turned it around in his hands; he hadn't noticed the delicate grain before today in the sheer excitement of it. He could feel power itching to make its way out. The handle was almost warm with this sort of energetic buzz. He smiled down at the wood when…

**BAM!**

A door opened, hitting him hard on the forehead. He blinked dots out of his eyes and rubbed his massaged his temples furiously. "You okay?" a distant voice asked.

"Yeah…" he responded vaguely, not even bothering to see who it was who talked to him. Once the massive crowd, attracted by the noise, started to trickle in size, he pushed his way through and into the classroom. Finally, his vision focused back, and he glanced around the room for a few moments. Hermione was just settling in between Harry and Ron, staring intently at the empty teacher's desk.

Neville sighed and made his way to the back of the room, where he sat next to a Ravenclaw in their year who he had only seen in the library on random occasions. Before he could reflect on all the times he had run into this student, the teacher appeared in less than a dignified grand entrance. He was cradling three too many books in his skinny arms, and had a very flustered look about him as he dropped the stack of books on his desk. The old desk creaked, as though whining from the stress. "Good day," he said stiffly, straightening up.

"Good day…" echoed the class dully.

"I'm Professor Proditirus," he continued, shuffling through an old bag, and pulling out what apparently was a class list. "Unfortunately, _I_ didn't get the choice whether all of you really should be in this N.E.W.T class." He cleared his throat importantly, and went on. "But, I suppose what's done is done, and you all must have done well on your O.W.L's. So, we will begin with the attendance…" He began to call out everybody's name, his unusually large eyes never taking a pause. Finally, he stumbled upon Neville's name and looked up. "Longbottom, Neville," he said in a hushed tone.

Neville raised his hand meekly, and whispered, "Here!"

And he continued with the list, not even a single look at Neville. He stumbled again once he reached "Potter Harry!"

"Here," Harry responded; he was used to all of the attention.

"Right," Proditirus said, once he had made his way through the entire list. "I will give you a brief outline of the class this year, and then we will begin." For the second time, he cleared his throat with an extremely annoying feeling of importance. "We will begin for the first half of this year with magical theory, and then tentatively go into blocking curses in the second half."

There was a loud mumble making a wave through the room. Neville smiled however, this may give him a chance to do better than he would have… before he could continue his hopeful thoughts, a hand shot up with such intent that he was sure it would reach the sky if physically possible. "I hope you are aware," Hermione said, just as importantly as Professor Proditirus. "That we are in the N.E.W.T class, and therefore we are more advanced."

"Yes, I am aware." Professor Proditirus snapped back at her. And the conversation ended there. Proditirus's stare cut deep into her usually in charge tone, and so, although stubbornly, Hermione pulled out her parchment and quill. "So," Proditirus continued with a little more pride than he had recently displayed. He continued talking, nobody was really listening. But then again, nobody ever really listened on the first day. Finally, his focus came back, and he listened to the last bit of his lecture. "We would be able to delve a little farther, but the ministry will not allow us to …And what the ministry says, goes."

"Oh no," Dean Thomas groaned. "Not another Umbridge…"

"We will begin," Proditirus cut through Dean's words. "With the theory behind the _Protego_ spell." Nobody dared to say anything. However basic it may be, Proditirus's huge eyes cut like butcher knives into them. "The _Protego_ spell was invented by Miriam Proudfoot in the early seventeenth century when her great aunt was killed by dark wizards. When she heard the story, that she was hit with nine dark spells at once, she made it her goal to invent a strong, yet simple blocking spell."

Neville let his mind wander, while he vaguely wrote down key words. The lecture continued, and continued… Something about Proditirus's voice seemed to make the world slow down to a pathetic crawl. He tapped his fingertips on the old wood desk for what felt like hours, when finally the bell for the next class rang from one of the high towers. He folded up his notes and slipped them in his book, as the rest of the class began to shuffle out. Swinging his back around his shoulder, he walked out of the classroom. He could feel the eyes of the professor on him, causing the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He pushed a few people aside to get out of the classroom faster, and gasped for breath once he made it into the corridor. There was something about that man … In a wave of blurry brown hair, Hermione shuffled passed, hunched over by the number of books in her bag. Neville began to follow her, but Harry and Ron passed by him and reached her first. Scowling, Neville turned around and pushed his way through a tapestry, a shortcut which he was pretty sure only a few other people knew about.

He climbed up a steep staircase, passing by paintings that he was almost positive were moved there because they were simply too hideous for the main corridor. He had this class off, since all of the sixth years were either in potions, muggle studies, or divination. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he was painting slightly from the nearly ninety degrees climb.

He passed by a few seventh years that didn't currently have a class either, and reached the portrait hole. He murmured the password and crawled through, only to find an empty common room. Of course, everybody else was probably at their class. Taking advantage of the silence, he jogged up the stairs to his dorm. Clothes were flung across the other boys' beds. Obviously, they had been in a great hurry to get down to breakfast.

He sat down on his bed and picked up his Herbology book, reading his homework on Inficipuffs vaguely. It wasn't really necessary to look more into them, since he knew so much about it, but he had nothing better to read. He dropped the book on his bed, and leaned back into his pillows, his thoughts taking him far away from homework.

Professor Proditirus seemed so familiar… It triggered a memory pushed so far to the back of his mind. He didn't know why all he could think of was his parents… Fear in Alice's eyes at the sight of that healer caused guilt to come pouring out of him… He could feel his nose begin to tingle, a sure sign that tears would follow. He took deep breaths, and fought the tears back with all his might. He rolled over to his side and closed his eyes, tiny tears clinging to his eyelashes. It was only a matter of seconds before he could feel sleep leading him towards his dreams.

It felt like only fifteen minutes later when he sat up, eyes wide open. It was just quick nap. He hadn't missed anything… Checking his watch, he gasped loudly. He had slept for an entire hour. Charms was already half over! He jumped out of his bed and snatched his wand off his bedside table. And he began his sprint.

He passed by groups of rather rude paintings who shouted curses after him for making so much noise. Finally, he reached the marble staircase and ran down the stairs two at a time. Right when he was approaching the third floor, Peeves appeared, cackling merrily.

"Oh! Little Longbottom!

With his arse so long and droopy!

One would guess why his face droops too!

But only Peeves know, mummy and daddy are loopy!"

He zoomed off, making loop-the-loops in the air. He had invented new songs every few months to terrorize Neville. He had tried not to get upset about it though; Peeves was just Peeves. How he found out about his parents, Neville didn't know. He supposed that he overheard Dumbledore or something like that.

He turned once he reached the charms corridor and sprinted down the hall. Finally, he reached the door and flung it open. "Sorry I'm late, professor!" he gasped.

Professor Flitwick raised his eyebrows. "Well, I'd say it wasn't the best start to the new term… but I'm sure you have a good reason. Take a seat Mr. Longbottom." He gestured towards an empty seat next to Hermione. He blushed and mouthed, "Fell asleep," to Hermione who was staring at him disapprovingly.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat, and continued with his lecture. "As I said earlier," he said, bouncing on his heals, on top of his pile of books. "The _Amitilius _spell can locate an object for you, if you cast it on the object right when you receive it. If you lose it, you cast the charm again, and it will trigger your memory."

Neville, once again, let his mind wander. He didn't have to know this; he could have Hermione help him with it later. Tapping his fingers on the desk, he sighed and stared out the window, listening vaguely as Flitwick lectured about the founder Eloise Goodrich and, upon loosing her valuable ancient Mesopotamian icon, invented the spell so it would not happen again.

Finally, the class ended, and Neville packed up his bag. "Were you even listening?" Hermione scolded.

Neville turned around to face her, blushing a deep red. "Er…" he began.

"Of course I was!" Ron protested. Hermione raised a cynical eyebrow.

_Of course she wasn't talking to me…_ Neville thought turning back around and starting to shuffle out of the classroom.

The rest of the day was as lonely as ever. People busily pushed passed him all day with the intent, he could have guessed, to knock him over.

Finally, he found himself sitting in bed, staring into space at night. All of the other boys in his dorm had just gone to bed, and he waited until it was safe to get up again. Ron's light mumbling in his sleep echoed off of the bare walls, and Neville sat up. He slipped his feet into light blue slippers and tip toed across the dorm to a window. He sat down in the window sill, staring out at the numerous stars flung into the sky. A burning star fell from the sky.

Neville sighed as he saw this. He would have bet that another student or teacher was sitting in their dorm or office, watching the same star fall. He closed his eyes, taking in its burning glory. "I wish…" he whispered, "I wish that she would notice me…"

**

* * *

**

AN: Sorry, this chapter took a long time. Very very very busy me. This is also a little bit shorter. Also, it might be a long time until I get my next chapter up because my family is going on vacation soon, and I won't have access to a computer. But I'll get writing as soon as possible.

Thanks to everybody!

Eponine's Heir


	4. All That's Lost

Through a Hero's Eyes

Chapter Four: All That's Lost

"_But the tigers come at night, with their voices soft as thunder, as they tear your hope apart, as they turn your dream to shame."_

Fantine, Les Miserables

The sun wasn't what woke Neville up the next morning. Rain pounded on the windows so hard that the only reason they didn't break was a strong magical charm put on it for that exact reason. Neville opened his eyes and groaned loudly. He hated the rain more than anything. Slipping out of his covers, he shivered. Something was wrong, and he could tell. Shaking his head, he decided not to bother himself about it. He had felt like that before; something in the air was slowly looming towards them. It was probably something that had to do with Voldemort though. It was never a matter for Neville to really worry about.

He got dressed silently, not wanting to wake everybody else up and anger them. Finally, when he was completely dressed, he started to head down the stairs. "Ginny!" he whispered once he reached the common room. It was completely deserted. "Ginny!" he shouted a little louder. A hunched over figure walked down the stairs, clutching her stomach.

"Ugh," Ginny groaned, sitting down on a large arm chair. "I think I caught something." She shook her head, bright hair flying up in every direction. "I was out when it started raining last night…" She turned to Neville, coughing hard. "I know I shouldn't have been out … but you know me. Hey, can you do me a favor and take me to the hospital wing?"

Neville nodded slowly, holding out a hand to help her up. Ginny took his hand and stood up slowly. "Thanks…" she whispered. Neville sighed heavily. It would be a very lonely day without her, but what could he do? Ginny looked awful, her freckled face was tinted a light green, and she looked on the verge of vomiting.

The trudge down to the Hospital wing was not the most pleasant of walks that Ginny and Neville had shared together. They passed by a few curious first years, who couldn't help themselves, and asked, "Oh, what's wrong? Is she sick? Is she?"

Neville had to shoo them away before they upset Ginny, as she was so easily upset when she was sick. Finally, they reached the Hospital Wing, and Madame Pomfery stared hard at Neville. "Why is she sick?" she asked sharply, once Ginny was resting in a bed.

"I don't know! She said she went out last night in the rain!"

"Well, if you come here tomorrow with the same thing, I won't accept you. You can't expect me to take care of every student who insists upon running around in the rain."

Neville turned around and began walking out. "Yeah, I know," he said with a wave of his hand. "I won't, don't worry." He walked out of the doorway and began to head towards the Great Hall. Once he reached it, he looked up at the ceiling; he had always loved to watch the rain pour from the sky, but not hit the ground. He sad down gloomily at the corner of the table and began picking at a bowl of oatmeal.

"Look at this!" a voice announced. Hermione bustled importantly into the Great Hall and slammed the Daily Prophet down in the space between Harry and Ron. She pointed to a picture of a smirking Bellatrix Lestrange on the front page. "Lestrange!"

Looking up from his breakfast, Neville scooted in a little closer to hear their conversation.

"She tried to get into Hogwarts, it says." Hermione sat down between Harry and Ron and read the article aloud. _"'Bellatrix Lestrange, a well known death eater, tried to break into Hogwarts Castle last night. She was driven away, however, right when she reached the forest. It is unknown what drove her away, but we have acquired different opinions._

'_We believe that it was a certain magical car roaming around the Forbidden Forest that drove her off,' claims Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." _And it continues to get different people's opinions…"

Hermione turned to Harry, a look of pure concern on her face. Harry was in fact, fuming mad. He slammed his fist onto the table and stood up. "She's looking for me, I bet," he said a little too loudly.

"Harry," Ron said, standing up also. "You don't know that. She was probably doing stuff for … You-Know-Who."

"Yeah, coming here to kill me!"

"Harry, you shouldn't jump to conclusions," Hermione said calmly, putting her hand on his shoulder and sitting him down. "She didn't get here anyway; it'll be a while before she does."

Neville stood up, biting the inside of his mouth to stop him from yelling. They all knew what had happened to his parents, and yet, they only looked to Harry when talking about Lestrange. Just because his godfather was killed by her…

He began to wander down the hall, fists clenched.

"Well, you know," Malfoy's voice cut through the silence. "Bellatrix Lestrange was put in Azkaban for torturing a bunch of blood traitors."

Neville rounded the corner, hiding behind a gorilla sized Slytherin seventh year, who was cackling stupidly.

"G-d bless the poor souls now stuck in St. Mungo's because of her!" Malfoy shouted, eying Neville. It seemed that none of the other Slytherins noticed a Gryffindor amongst them, except for him. "I mean, imagine what it must be like to go through life always just a few steps behind. Rumor has it, they can't even recognize their own kid! _Honestly_ their own kid! How pathetic is that?"

With a sudden burst of anger and energy, Neville shoved himself through the large group of Slytherins and stood in front of Malfoy. "SHUT UP, MALFOY!" he shouted, reaching a fist back.

"Oh, pudgy little Longbottom is angry?" Malfoy asked sarcastically.

With all his force, Neville swung hard at Malfoy's face and hit him square in the jaw. Falling back into Crabbe's massive frame, he shouted loudly. As he pushed himself up, Neville could see blood dripping down from his lip. Proudly, Neville swung again, this time hitting him in the nose. Before he could swing a third time, however, Goyle grabbed him by the wrist. With wide eyes, Neville tried to fight, but only succeeded in aggravating the monkey-like Slytherin even more.. With a swift movement, he threw Neville to the ground.

As he pushed himself up, Neville could feel blood pouring from his own nose, and he wiped it on his sleeve. Without a thought, he tackled Malfoy, punching him with all his force. "They're not _pathetic!_" he shouted.

BANG!

A sound like a cannon exploded in the crowded corridor. As though on cue, the crowd parted and Professor Snape walked quickly towards them. "Longbottom! Stop fighting this instant!"

Neville did not stop, however, but kept attacking Malfoy with all of his might.

"LONGBOTTOM!" Snape shouted, his voice echoing so it attracted more onlookers.

Once again, Neville didn't respond, but continued until he felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him up to standing. "Longbottom," Snape hissed, voice quivering. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Beating the hell out of"

"The explanation," Snape interrupted, "is not necessary. Why, Longbottom, do you insist attacking Mr. Malfoy in the corridor?"

"Because me made fun of my" Neville stopped, and looked down at his shoes, blushing. Unable to finish, he shrugged pathetically.

"Twenty five points from Gryffindor! Mr. Malfoy?" Snape turned his sharp gaze to Malfoy. "Did he hurt you?"

"A little," Malfoy said, sticking out his chin and wiping the blood off with his sleeve again. "But nothing I can't handle, sir."

Neville snorted, and crossed his arms.

"Do you find something amusing about this Mr. Longbottom?" Snape snapped. "I assure you that you will serve detention for a week in my office for this, starting tonight." He turned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Take Mr. Malfoy up to the Hospital Wing," he demanded with a sharp glare. Crabbe and Goyle obeyed immediately, attempting to pick Malfoy up carefully, but only dropping him several times. "Be careful, for G-d's sake!" Snape shouted at their leaving backs.

Finally, he turned his gaze to Neville. "You are to be in my office right after dinner, if you are late I will take away more points from," he scowled, _"Gryffindor."_

The rest of the day passed without anything interesting. News of Neville's attack, however, reached the entire school by lunch, so he was forced to shoo some first years away. Apparently they were in awe that he was able to attack the bully of the school fearlessly. Fearlessly really wasn't the word he would have called it, though. He just thought it was hot headed and rash.

By the end of the day, Neville was frustrated with everybody in the castle who had asked him about it. People seemed stuck on his stroll out of his usual, amazed that he would ever do such a thing.

But the worst part was detention. Neville didn't have to serve detention many times before. In fact, the only time he could ever remember being this frightened for a detention was in his first year when he was caught for trying to warn Harry and Hermione about the dragon.

As he finished up his dinner, a sense of foreboding loomed like a storm cloud above him. It could have been any teacher but Snape who caught him. With a deep breath, he stood up and looked over at the teachers' table. Snape's spot at it was empty. _He must be waiting for me…_ Neville thought, beginning to get a little panicked.

As he strode out of the Great Hall, a hush fell upon the students; they all knew about his detention. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he walked through the great oak doors under the intense heat of all of those eyes. Finally, he was free, his stomach settled a little bit, but it still felt like there were tiny spiders creeping their way up his arms and back.

As he reached the dungeon, he could feel a chill run down his spine. So many painful memories lingered in the maze of corridors. He approached Snape's office, hand outstretched, and knocked quietly.

"Come in," the voice hissed.

Neville pushed the door open slowly, taking a moment to soak in his surroundings. Creatures, plants, an unrecognizable beings floated in jars of strangely colored substances. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, not knowing where to look or where to go.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Snape asked, standing up and pointing across the room. There was a cauldron, a flame and ingredients that he couldn't recognize all lined up evenly. "You will be making a dreamless sleep potion," he began.

"But-" Neville interrupted.

"But _nothing_, Mr. Longbottom," Snape said harshly. "Get to work. I expect it to be done by midnight."

"But, Professor, you know I can't"

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said, a gleeful smile spreading across his face. "If you keep going like that I'll make it fifty."

Grudgingly, Neville sat down in front of the cauldron and picked up the roll of parchment with the instructions hastily written on it.

_Heat the water until it reaches a simmer._

Neville did as the sheet said, and lit a flame, waiting for the water to simmer. Once it did, he followed the instructions as carefully as he could, but some things he simply could not read. He began to let his mind wander, as he vaguely performed the actions on the sheet. This was bad; he knew he was doing something wrong… Snape would probably take away even more points for it also.

Although he had faked half of the things he did wrong when he took potions, he never had a knack for it. He found the constant following of instructions very tedious. Finally, he finished, and proudly wiped his hands on the legs of his pants. Neville knew there was something wrong. He knew that dreamless sleep potions were supposed to be a rather blissful shade of lavender, from his many nightmares as a child. His potion was a fierce magenta.

Snape looked up from the paper he was grading and smirked. "You did it wrong," he stated bluntly. With a graceful movement, he stood up and glided over to Neville, examining the potion. "All wrong… You'll never learn, Longbottom… especially without your friend, Granger, here to help you." Neville flushed a color to match his potion. "Well, well, well…" He took a flask out of a pocket sewn onto the left side of his cloak. Letting a little bit of the potion drip into it, again, he smirked to himself. "Consistency is all wrong too." Shaking his head, mockingly disappointedly, he continued. "What's to become of you, Longbottom? I thought a simple potion like this would be easy. I have second years who are passing this potion."

Neville stood up abruptly, fists clenched so tight that his fingernails dug into his palms. "You know potions isn't my strong suit," he said, trying to regain his mounting temper.

"Is anything else?" Snape asked coldly. "Come back tomorrow," he said, swishing his wand, causing the potion that Neville had worked so hard on to disappear in a matter of seconds. "I expect you to get it right sometime in the next week, or I will be forced to extend this detention until you do."

Neville stared intently into Snape's dark eyes, until Snape turned away and faced his window. "You may go," he whispered with a quick shake of his head.

Quickly, Neville took a few steps backwards and then turned around completely and began walking out of the dungeons. Once he reached the first floor, he began to run. He didn't know why he had the sudden urge to run, but something inside him was propelling him forward as fast as possible. At the fourth floor, he stopped dead, panting quietly. He could hear footsteps, quiet footsteps, but footsteps none the less. Creeping over to the wall, he snuck across it as quietly as he could. As he snuck, thoughts of his parents came to mind. Snape was right… he wasn't very good at anything. He couldn't help imagining their disappointed faces if they had known what he had become.

Finally, whoever it was rounded the corner, and Neville let out a sigh of relief. Hermione stood there, eyebrows raised at whatever had made the noise. "Oh," she said, turning to Neville. "It's just you. Coming back from detention?"

"Yeah," Neville said, absent mindedly scratching his left arm. He let out a sigh, and looked down at his worn tennis shoes.

"Neville?" she asked softly. "What's wrong? You seem preoccupied."

"Nothing…" he said hastily.

Hermione just raised her eyebrows and cleared her throat, in that I-will-understand-because-I-know-everything way.

He could feel anger rushing up to his head from places where he had tucked it away for all of those years. Furious thoughts came and went in seconds. Why had Hermione been so oblivious? Why did Malfoy think it was funny to make fun of disabled people? Why wouldn't Snape ever let go the fact that Neville wasn't' very good at potions? "It's nothing you would understand," he whispered.

"I know a lot of things," Hermione responded.

Typical Hermione. Neville clenched his fists, doing his best not to shoot her a biting glare.

"Books don't teach everything, Hermione," he finally spat, lifting his chin up with as much pride as he could muster. "I'm a lot smarter than all of you give me credit for." And with that, he turned on his heal and continued walking towards the common room.

Finally, he reached the Fat Lady and recited the password. She swung forward, and he crawled through. It was completely deserted; only the embers of a fire remained glowing in the fireplace. Silently, he ran up the stairs and sat down at the edge of his four poster bed. Trevor sat, croaking softly. All of the other boys were asleep, and nothing moved in the still dormitory.

The door opened slowly, to reveal Ginny standing nervously in the door way. "I heard what happened," she said quietly. She walked over and sat on the edge of his bed. "And I can't help thinking that it's my fault…"

"Why would it be your fault?" Neville asked slowly with a little laugh.

"Well, I mean, if I was there… it wouldn't have happened."

"No, it would have happened anyway. And you would have gotten in trouble too," Neville assured her.

"I guess," Ginny murmured with a shrug. "I just wish I could have been there."

"You know…" Neville began, choking on his own tongue. "You know, why I was angry?" He couldn't stand telling this to anybody. He knew that Ginny already knew about his parents, but he didn't think it was his place to whine about nobody paying any attention to him.

"Why?" Ginny asked quietly, putting a hand on Trevor, who was trying to get away under her grasp.

"Never mind," he said quickly. "It's-it's nothing… nothing important."

Ginny blinked slowly at him, with the look in her eyes that always made him feel like she was searching him for the truth. "Alright…" she said quietly. "Well, it's pretty late," she continued, obviously disappointed that Neville wouldn't tell her. "I-I have to go." She got up quickly and walked to the door. "Good night," she said stiffly.

"Night," Neville replied, lying down on top of his bed. Seamus stirred in his sleep, and Neville began to change quietly.

The next day was stormy weather, again. More cases like Ginny's were flooding the Hospital wing. And, although Madame Pomfrey was able to cure it in a matter of minutes, she was a little overwhelmed with the number of people. The teachers, on the other hand, were getting increasingly aggravated by the number of students they were forced to excuse to get a Pepperup Potion.

As Neville sat down at his spot at the Gryffindor table, Professor McGonagall swooped up to him like a vulture. "Longbottom," she said, trying to be stern, but unable to hide her quivering voice. "I need to meet with you, after dinner, in my office."

"I can't," Neville said immediately. "I have a detention."

"I am aware," Professor McGonagall began, her glasses quivering on the bridge of her nose, "of your detention with Professor Snape. But I assure you, it can wait a day for this."

Neville raised his eyebrows. "Right," he said, standing up. "I-I'll go find Professor Snape."

He stood up and watched Professor McGonagall bustle to the teacher's table. She seemed so distressed. Shaking it off, he began to walk out of the Great Hall, when he stopped suddenly when he heard footsteps. Looking up from the floor, he sighed as he saw Professor Snape approaching. Once he rounded the corner, Neville made a timid movement to show he wanted his attention.

"Yes, Longbottom?" Snape asked, examining him down his crooked nose.

"I-I," Neville choked, biting the inside of his mouth nervously. "I can't make it to detention tonight."

"And why not?" Snape asked, with a flicker of irritation in his eyes. Before Neville could respond he continued. "Very well, fifteen points away from Gryffindor." He smirked and strode away, cloak billowing behind him.

Anger flushed Neville and he dug his heals into the ground, trying not to yell at his former professor. Finally, the door slammed behind him, and Neville let out a long groan. Finally, the bell signaling the end of breakfast rang and Neville shuffled to Care of Magical Creatures. Anger still pounded in his ears as he passed other students gossiping happily.

As he walked outside, thunder crashed, and he could have sworn he saw a lightening bolt slowly making its way down into the mountains; but before it made it, something stopped it, causing the electricity to simply stop. The rain fell harder, and Neville quickened his step so he reached Hagrid's Hut in a matter of seconds.

"Neville!" Hagrid boomed from inside his hut. "Didn' you 'ear?"

"No," Neville shouted back over the thunder. "What?"

"Classes ou'side canceled today," Hagrid continued, opening his door wide. "C'mon inside 'fore you catch 'at nasty bug tha's been goin' round."

Neville obeyed and ran into the hut. Shivers ran up and down his spine as rubbed his arms for warmth.

"Er, Neville," Hagrid mumbled, twisting his hands around his coat. "Any-anythin' on yer mind?"

"No," Neville responded cautiously. "Well, I don't think so. I mean, I'm upset about getting detention, but"

"Yeah," Hagrid grunted in response. "But… anythin' more 'portant'n 'at?"

"No, not really…" Neville shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

"W-well, maybe you should head back up to the castle 'fore it rains too hard so yer stuck 'ere."

Neville nodded in response, and headed to the door silently.

"A meeting?" Ginny threw him a towel across the room once Neville had explained his meeting with McGonagall, which he was scheduled to have in about two hours. "Hm, wonder what she wants to see you about…"

"No idea," Neville responded, running the towel through his hair to dry it off. "Probably about my detention or something."

"I s'pose…" Ginny said before turning to the fire thoughtfully.

And the two hours came and went, with nothing but the clock ticking to distinguish one minute from the other. Finally, the clock struck eight, and Neville shot up. "Dinner's done," he told Ginny. They had both decided not to go down to dinner. Ginny still felt a little sick from the previous day, and Neville just didn't want to eat.

"I-I'm going to go," he continued. "I'll come back later and tell you what happened."

Ginny waved, not taking her gaze off of the dancing flames.

_Knock… Knock… knock…_

Neville stood in front of the head of Gryffindor's office door, waiting patiently for Professor McGonagall to answer.

"Come in," a hoarse voice said from inside.

Neville put a shaky hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. Once the door had clicked, he pushed all of his weight into it and let the door open under him. The only light in Professor McGonagall's office was from a rather large magical lamp sitting on her desk.

Bookshelves lined the walls, only breaking for an occasional window.

"I-I'm glad you came, Neville," she said, without the usual sternness in her voice. "I-I have some news for you." She waved her hand in front of her desk. A rigid backed chair appeared out of thin air. "Please sit down," she said solemnly.

"What?" Neville raised his eyebrows; this sounded much more serious than discussing a little temper tantrum.

"Please, sit down." Again, she motioned towards the chair a little more forcefully.

Blankly, Neville sat, letting his hands fall clumsily at his side. "What happened?" he asked again, raising his eyebrows.

"I-I…" She stopped, took of her glasses, polished them on her sleeve and placed them back on. "I hate to inform you of this Neville… but,"

"What happened?" Neville repeated, eyes flickering with fear.

"Your grandmother was killed."

**AN:**

Okay, this is the last chapter for a while, considering I'll lose internet access in about … four hours. So hope you enjoy this one (sorry for the cliffhanger) and I'll update as soon as possible!

Eponine's Heir


	5. Pity and Anger

Through a Hero's Eyes

Chapter five: Pity and Anger

_"She will not die in vain… she will not be betrayed…"_

Prouvaire and Lesgles; Les Miserables

* * *

Numbness flushed its way throat Neville's body. His mind seemed to just stop functioning. Blood rushed to his head, and he could hear a sharp ringing in his ears. His feet were getting cold. It felt as though he had tied his shoelaces too tightly, and his feet were swelling under the pressure. He was unable to move, suffocated by the heavy air falling and pushing down on his shoulders…

"Neville," Professor McGonagall whispered.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, but couldn't do anything in response.

"Neville, please do something."

Just a finger. With all of the concentration he could muster, he lifted his index finger and let it fall immediately to his lap.

Professor McGonagall gave his shoulder a little shake.

Finally, thoughts came flooding into his mind, and his head grew hot under their intensity. Images of the office around him faded in and out of miserable, cold, blackness. He felt weighted to the ground. Stuck was the only way he could describe it. _I'm just stuck…_

He felt his breath quicken as everything around him became tinted a light purple. Panic hit him directly in the face. His shoulders stiffened under his frozen confusion. Suddenly, he gasped for breath. Slowly, he put a hand to his forehead, trying desperately not to faint. He ran his hand down his face and stopped. He had not even noticed the tears falling down his cheeks and collecting in the tired lines on his face.

"Who did this?" Neville finally croaked.

"Neville," Professor McGonagall whispered again, taking her hand off his shoulder. "It-it was a very dark witch."

"Who?" Neville demanded, getting quickly to his feet.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," she said quietly.

Again, the feeling of pure nausea sunk in through his skin.

"I-I-I have to go," he said, taking a few hurried steps backwards.

"Will y-you be alright?" Professor McGonagall asked. For the first time he could remember, Neville thought he heard shakiness in her voice.

"I don't know," he replied simply. "I'll have to get back to you on that." With that, he turned straight around and began to run.. The corridors were empty; surely it was way after hours. He kept running, down the marble staircase and stopped once he reached the ground floor. A cupboard, that most students just passed, stood in front of him. With a shuddering breath, he opened the door and stepped into the cramped space.

Hunching over his shoulders, he leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until he was seated with his knees at his chest.

"Lestrange…" he hissed. "Destroyed my parents… killed my Gran… might as well have killed me…" With a choky little wail, not completely out of character for him, he rested his head on the tops of his knees.

Usually, he found comfort in this tiny little cupboard. Today, however, he seemed to keep slipping in and out of reality.

* * *

_In a cold sweat, Neville woke with a start. His young face seemed to have been frightened to the point where age seemed to tell its story on every tiny line. Bellatrix Lestrange had haunted his nightmares again that night. Thos words were etched into stone in his mind._

**_Crucio_**

_He could feel tears streaming down his face while he shook all over._

_"Neville," Gran said quietly, appearing in the doorway. "Neville, dear… was it the dream again?"_

_The seven year old nodded slowly in response._

_"Oh, Neville…" She walked over to him and ran a pale hand through his dark hair. "Just try to get back to sleep. We have to visit your parents in the morning."_

_The boy's eyes widened as he clung to his grandmother's hand._

_"Nothing's gonna hurt you,  
Not while I'm around…" she sang quietly._

_Neville let his eyes close and rested his head against the pillow._

_Nothing's gonna hurt you,  
No sir,  
Not while I'm around._

_Demons are prowling everywhere now a'days.  
I'll send 'em howling.  
I don't care.  
I've got ways._

_No one's gonna hurt you.  
No ones gonna dare Others can desert you,  
Not to worry, whistle;  
I'll be there._

_Demons'll charm you with a smile For a while.  
But in time Nothing can harm you,  
Not while I'm around…"_

* * *

Footsteps echoed through the staircase, but no voices came with it. With a big breath, Neville tried to compose himself, but failed.

"Hello?" a quiet voice asked and tapped on the door.

Neville didn't respond, but just shuffled around a bit so he didn't have to look at whoever it was.

"Neville, I know you're in there. We're the only ones who know about this place."

It was Ginny.

She pushed the door open and let her eyes soften when she saw him. "Neville," she whispered, sitting across from him. "What happened?"

Neville didn't respond. He sat, staring at his lap doing everything he possibly could to stop the tears.

"Neville, please," Ginny said a little more urgently.

"My Gran is dead," he finally croaked harshly.

"What?" Ginny's eyes grew to the size of golf balls.

"She's dead," he repeated more firmly. "Sh-she was killed."

"You're not serious."

"I am!" Neville finally looked up into her deep eyes. You know I would never lie about something like this…"

The only thing Ginny could do was raise a hand to her mouth and stare. It was the most unexpected reply… "H-how?" she stuttered.

"B-Bellatrix Lestrange."

Silence.

Ginny said nothing, letting a few glistening tears form and cling to her eyelashes. There was nothing to be said, Ginny and Neville both knew it. Breaking the tension, Ginny leaned over and wrapped her arms around him.

Neville returned the hug, doing everything he could not to sob into her shoulder. They kept their warm embrace until Neville pulled away.

Without words, Ginny understood; he needed to be alone. She stood up, doing nothing to prevent the tears from streaming down her face and pushed the door open timidly. It was empty, thankfully, and she shuffled out.

Neville tilted his head, temporarily taking his thoughts off his current enigma. The picture of Ginny embracing him, tears gleaming in her eyes stuck there, as if her thoughts were powerful enough to etch the image into his skull. She was rather pretty, he noticed, when she was upset. Her eyes had always had the ability to tell her entire story with a single glance.

Slowly, he began to stand and pushed open the cupboard doors, glancing cautiously around.

Nobody was there. Only his own shadow was cast upon the stone wall.

He turned to the staircase and began to climb, careful not to make a sound. Filch had ears like a bat.

Neville stopped suddenly and looked don to his feet. Mrs. Norris stared at him with, if possible, a rather smug look on her face She mewed loudly and turned her gaze back to Neville. His eyes widened. He had a very strong urge to kick the cat, but fought it back and began to run instead.

"Who's there!" Filch's voice echoed through the halls. "Come on out; I know you're there."

Neville did not pause, but kept running. If there was a staff member, besides Snape, who had the ability to scare him more than his grandmother had, it was Filch. The Fat Lady came into view and he sped up.

"Glibertmuck!" he gasped.

The portrait swung open, and he clambered through it quickly to find nearly every Gryffindor in the school crammed in. He spotted Hermione immediately, holding Harry's hand while scribbling down homework.

Before anybody could see him, he ran up to the dormitories and threw himself on his bed. He buried his face in his pillow and let his tears absorb into it.

Hours must have passed as he just sat, hiding from the world.

"Nev?" Seamus walked into the dorm, holding a pile of books in his hand. "What happened?"

"It's nothing," Neville mumbled, only lifted his head from the pillow an inch so Seamus could hear him.

"Oh, come on," Seamus insisted, rolling his eyes. "You hardly ever get this worked up about anything."

"It's nothing!" Neville repeated, twisting the cover on his pillow. "Just leave me alone, okay?" He shut the curtain to his four poster furiously.

More footsteps echoed up the staircase, and Neville snorted loudly.

"Nev's already asleep?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"What? Sixth year too tough for him?" Harry said sarcastically. The creaking of a bed told Neville that he had just sat down.

"He was really upset 'bout something," Seamus informed them. "Crying and everything. I reckon it must've been something important. Imean, when was the last time you saw Neville cry?"

"What?" You mean yesterday?" Ron laughed loudly at his own joke and sat down on his trunk.

It was enough. Furiously, Neville opened the curtain of his bed.

"SHUT UP!" he roared, fixing each of them with an icy glare. "It's none of your business, and you wouldn't care anyway! So go to bed and stop talking about me!"

The room fell silent immediately; only Trevor croaked quietly, hardly aware of the awkwardness creeping around them. Turning around on his heel, Neville didn't dare look at any of them. Silently, he sat back down on his bed and shut the curtains. There was a quiet shuffle as everybody else found their ways to their four posters.

When he was sure that they were all trying to sleep, Neville let himself drip off into his nightmare haunted sleep…

* * *

The next day, Care of Magical Creatures was first. Neville would have done almost anything to miss it. He understood, no, why Hagrid was so concerned. He had already know, but just couldn't bring himself to tell him.

With a lump rising in his throat, Neville began to walk to Hagrid's Hut. The stormy skies had not cleared up over night, but instead darkened. Menacing looking storm clouds threatened to drench the poor students who had classes outside. Thankfully, there was no lightning, so classes would continue until there was.

Neville as the first one there, probably because he skipped breakfast He could see a large shadow against the foggy mirror shuffling around in the cramped hut. It stopped for a moment, apparently staring straight at him.

After about fifteen minutes, all of the students were assembled in a clump. Hagrid's shadow, which had not moved, finally began to shuffle to the door.

"Right," Hagrid called out, closing the door to his cabin behind him. "Today you'll be researching half 'umans, such as vampires an' werewolves. We don' 'ave any way of firs' hand research, so you can use 'is time to look 'em up in the library. I 'spect a a report on the half 'uman of yer choice, due nex' week."

As the bewildered class began to leave, Hagrid put his hands on Neville's shoulders, causing him to sink a few centimeters into the mud. "Not yet, Neville. I'd like ter talk ter ya." He gestured towards the cabin. Grudgingly, Nevile began to walk towards it.

Hagrid shut the door once they wre both safely inside, and wiped his brow with a sleeve. He motioned to an over sized arm chair and sat in one opposite it. Neville sat down quietly, staring at his lap as he sunk into the chair.

"Er," Hagrid grunted, "Anythin' on yer mind?"

Neville didn't respond, just looked straight into Hagrid's small eyes as though forcing his own thoughts into his head.

"Erright…" Hagrid broke his gaze and stared down at the palms of his hands that were resting in his lap. "So, I reckon you 'eard 'bout"

"Yeah, I did," Neville interrupted sharply.

"So"

"And I'd rather not talk about it," he continued, softening his tone.

"Right… it's not easy, yer know… I mean…" Again, he put his hand on Neville's shoulder. "J-jus' don't rush the healing process. Some things aren't mean' ter be fixed so fast. An' who knows, ya might even lear summin' through all this."

Neville merely nodded.

"So Dumbledore gave yer leave from all yer classes today. 'Parently, he needs ter talk ter ya 'bout summin' important."

Neville, again, didn't respond.

"Said he wanted ya ter meet 'im in 'is office. Password's Drooble's Best Blowing Gum."

"Okay…" Neville whispered, staring at his hands as though they suddenly interested him a great deal.

"Better run 'long them," Hagrid said in the same hushed tone. Hagrid walked him to the door and just when he was about to leave, Hagrid ruffled his hair. "Don't ferget what I told yer."

As he walked towards Dumbledore's office, Hagrid's words rang in his ears over and over. He didn't even notice the students whispering to each other as he passed, but perhaps that was for the better. Finally, he reached the stone gargoyles that garuded Dumbledore's office.

"Drooble's Best Blowing Gum," he recited quietly.

When he walked into the large circular office, he saw Professor Dumbledore stroking a brilliantly colored phoenix. Hearing Neville's almost silent footsteps, Dumbledore turned around and sighed quietly. "Sit down, Neville," he said with a gesture towards a chair in front of his desk.

Neville sat, utterly bewildered.

Dumbledore sat also, behind his desk before lacing his fingers and surveying Neville carefully through them. "Bellatrix Lestrange," he began abruptly, "has been after the entire Longbottom family since you were a child."

Neville was not particularly startled to hear this.

"Your grandmother was her latest victim and this has led to Professor McGonagall and I to be, ah, concerned. In light of these events, we have decided to raise security." He sighed again, and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his overly large nose. "For your own safety, we will be taking your name off of the list to go to Hogsmeade."

Neville was about to open his mouth to protest, when Dumbledore continued.

"I assure you, it is for your own well being." Dumbledore said nothing for a moment before, again, breaking the silence before Neville could say anything. "Over the holidays you will come to," he lowered his voice, "number twelve Grimmauld Place."

Neville looked at him quizzically for a few moments until Dumbledore answered his unasked question.

"Grimmauld Place is the location of the Order of the Phoenix."

Again, Neville raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"The Order of the Phoenix is a society fighting against Lord Voldemort. Your parents were in it during the first rise of Voldemort. But you will only be staying there. You are too young, far too young, to be fighting. You will not be alone, however," he continued somewhat brightly, "Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny will be there, also."

Neville smiled the tiniest smile when he heard Ginny's name, but besides that just nodded. What was he supposed to say when taking in all of this information?

"I will ask you not to tell anybody about this for reasons you can probably understand." A subtle smile spread across Dumbledore's aged face, light blue eyes glittering. "Now, before you go," he said, opening a spell tin, "would you care for a lemon drop?"

"What?" Neville tore his eyes off of the phoenix as he wondered if it had anything to do with the Order of the Phoenix. "Oh," he mumbled sheepishly. "No thanks… I-I'm not hungry."

Dumbledore saw him eyeing the magic bird. "Beautiful, isn't he?"

Neville nodded in agreement.

"I've had him for quite some time now."

Neville stayed silent, hardly taking in what Dumbledore was telling him. The phoenix had turned to him, and their gazes locked.

Suddenly, the room around him seemed to disappear and memories came flooding into his mind.

His grandmother was holding his hand tightly, singing him a lullaby…

In a flash of brilliant light, he was singing the same song to his mother as she lay in her hospital bed.

Another flash of light, and people were screaming. His mother was on the floor, writhing in agony…

* * *

With a start, Neville woke, his eyes wide open. It was still light, or as light as it could get outside. He sat up and checked his watch. It was five in the afternoon.

"Nev?" Harry stood in the doorway, running his hand through his hair. "I-I spoke to Dumbledore after classes today."

"Yeah?'

"Yeah…" He sat down on his own bed. "I heard what happened…"

Neville didn't even look at him.

"…I just wanted to tell you that you could al-always talk to me, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Neville grunted unenthusiastically.

Harry let out a long sigh and walked down to the common room.

Hours passed, and Neville sat, arms wrapped around his knees.

At three in the morning, he heard the other boys begin to come up, and he pretended to be asleep.

They didn't say anything, but just went to sleep themselves. Their breath began to slow down, and Neville tiptoed to the common room.

He settled in a large window sill and stared out at the sky. A star was falling outside in a brilliant show of light. It wasn't beautiful anymore. In fact, he found it rather sad. So much glory being lost as it cut through the deep sky.

"I wish…" he said, shutting his eyes, "that Gran is safe… and I wish… that I can get revenge on Bellatrix Lestrange."

* * *

**AN: **Sorry to leave you on that cliffhanger for so long, I just got back from vacation last night, and had to type up everything I had written in free time and such. As you can see, I'm experimenting with different types of line breaks because the stupid site won't let me do my favorite kind, so blah. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and I'll update as soon as possible! Grr, if anybody knows how to do line breaks without having to use the ugly ones they give you on the site, please tell me, because it just deletes all of the ones I try.

Eponine's Heir


	6. New Possibilities

Through a Hero's Eyes

Chapter six: New Possibilities

_"'All I know is that Arkarian said we all meet our soul-mates at least once in our lives. It's up to us to recognize each other, or we'll miss out on true love.'"_  
-Isable, The Key (189) by Marianne Curley.

* * *

A bat fluttered across the window, hardly standing out against the darkening sky. For some reason, this particular bat had strayed from the group, which was most likely circling the Great Hall. But Neville wouldn't know. He sat in the deserted dormitory, staring out the window. Halloween had never been his favorite holiday, anyway. Hat did he care if he missed the feast? He scooted closer to the window, squinting. The flickering lights in the Great Hall were just visible from where he had been sitting. 

A light knock on the door made him jump.

"How come you're not at the feast?" Ginny asked, pushing open the door.

"I could ask the same for you," Neville said curtly.

"Look." Ginny sat down at the edge of his bed. "You've been like this since the funeral."

Neville turned away, biting his lip.

"You need to cheer up. You're not being fair to yourself. C'mon!" She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him up to standing. "We can go down to the feast and have a good time."

"I don't want to," Neville said, sitting back down and crossing his arms stubbornly. "Go to the feast and have a good time."

"I'm not going," Ginny said, just as stubbornly as Neville, "unless if you do." She crossed her arms and sat back down on his bed next to him. She stuck out her chin, as a young child might, and crossed her legs. She laughed quietly to herself before sharing her new idea. "Hey, we could go down to the kitchens and have our own feast up here!"

Her laugher ran through Neville ears as he furrowed his brow thoughtfully. She thought of it as some sort of joke, but it was actually a pretty good idea. "Okay!" he said enthusiastically.

Ginny, a little bit surprised by this, raised her eyebrows, before letting her face slide into her radiant grin. "Great!" she exclaimed, hopping up and clapping her hands together. "C'mon, we don't want to get caught. The faster we go, the less in trouble we'll be if we do."

Once they had scuttled out of the common room, Ginny suddenly dived behind a rather large tapestry. Neville followed, utterly confused. "What was that for?"

"The enemy was approaching!" Ginny half whispered, half shouted like a little kid playing pretend.

Neville blinked and peaked out of the tapestry. There was nothing there. "What are you talking about? I don't see anything."

Ginny punched him lightly on the shoulder playfully. "You know I was just trying to make you do something, besides waddling behind me all depressed and such. C'mon, there is a passageway behind this tapestry." She flashed him with a toothy grin. "There is a method to my madness, you know."

_"Really?"_ Neville pretended to be shocked. "Well, give me a piece of parchment, I better owl the Prophet!"

"Shut up!" Ginny laughed and pushed one of the stones in the walls while muttering a simple charm. The wall did nothing, but Ginny still beckoned him forward. She stuck her head through the wall. "It's all clear!" she informed him, letting the rest of her body follow.

Neville simply stared. He had seen this kind of magic before, of course, at Platform 9 ¾, but he would never had suspected that they had an enchanted wall like that at the school.

Ginny's fiery redhead popped back out, and she raised her eyebrows at him. "Well come on, then!" And again, she disappeared into the wall.

Neville followed, laughing to himself and shaking his head. He was being stupid, Hogwarts had hidden passageways all over the school; why was this one any different? Sheepishly, he followed Ginny into the passage. The only sources of light were small sky lights in the ceiling, letting in the moonlight every few feet. They began to descend the steep staircase, and the sky lights were quickly replaced with dimly glowing candles. As they got closer and closer to the dungeons, the temperature dropped steadily, causing Neville to shiver slightly; he could see goose-bumps on the back of Ginny's neck. Finally, a door came into view.

_Thank G-d,_ Neville thought, wiping his forehead off with his sleeve. He was getting slightly claustrophobic in the cramped corridor. The door looked like it was snatched out of the middle ages and placed clumsily in the school. Neville could have sworn that it was crooked. "Okay," Ginny said, turning back to him. "For some reason, the door locks, and we can't go back up this way. We'll have to go normally."

Neville nodded as Ginny opened the door and snuck out. He followed as quietly as he could. They were in a spacious corridor, which was a relief to Neville. Massive paintings lined the walls, making Neville feel very small. He thought that they were heading towards the end of the corridor, and was very surprised when Ginny stopped in front of a painting of a fruit bowl. She stood on tip toes and reached a hand up. The pear giggled as Ginny tickled it. Neville could have sworn his jaw hit the floor as the painting swung forward to reveal the school kitchens.

He had never been in the kitchen before. It was massive, even bigger than the Great Hall. He fought the urge to shout "HELLO!" and listen to it echo off of the highly polished walls. "How did you found out about all of this?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

But before she could answer, seven house elves dashed up to them, asking - practically begging - if they wanted anything. "Yes please!" Ginny announced, flashing Neville an apologetic look that seemed to tell him she'd tell him in a second. "We would like… two turkey legs, a good amount of butterbeer and pumpkin juice, mashed potatoes, fudge… anything else, Neville?"

"Er…" Neville watched half of the house elves scatter off excitedly to prepare their meal. "Pumpkin pie?"

"Yes sir!" a particularly tiny house elf squeaked, and ran off with such enthusiasm that he tripped over his overly large feet and fell into a bowl of some sort of punch.

In a matter of minutes, the house elves had assembled their meal all packed in baskets. "Hmm…" Ginny placed a finger to her chin as she stared at the baskets thoughtfully. "That's a lot to carry." She took out her wand and pointed them at a few of the baskets. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ A few of the baskets levitated a few feet in the air, and she steered them in front of her.

Neville did the same, and bid his thanks to the house elves. "So," he said, once they were out of the kitchens. "How _did_ you learn all of that?"

"You forget where I grew up," Ginny said with a sly smile. "Fred and George told me about the kitchens in my first year, and they told me about that passageway last year right before they left."

Neville nodded. "That makes sense," he muttered.

"I would wonder," a sharp voice cut made them stop dead in their tracks, "why the two of you are not at the Halloween feast. Surely, it is one of the most anticipated feasts all semester?"

Snape stood before them, one eyebrow raised in an intimidating arch. Neville nearly dropped his basket. He stuttered for a few seconds, until Ginny stepped on his foot hard, shutting him up immediately.

"Well," Ginny said calmly, "neither of us were up to going to the feast." She smile innocently. There's nothing wrong with it, is there?"

Snape's lip curled, and Neville swore he saw his fists shake with anger. "Very well," he hissed, letting his eyebrow rejoin with the other. "But, where did you get that food? Surely, it did not _appear_ before you." He turned to Neville, sneering.

"Well, we-" Neville began stuttering once again, until Ginny stomped on his foot. She knew that he wasn't very good at dealing with Snape, and she could keep her cool for much longer.

"My mum sent it in the post," she lied quickly.

"And it's still hot?"

"It was a simple spell to reheat it."

Neville was very impressed with Ginny, and he was about to leave, when Snape hissed, "Liar."

Ginny bit her lip before continuing to make up her story. "No, I'm not lying," she insisted.

"I know you're lying. I could suspend both of you for lying to a head of house, but-" he paused dramatically, giving Neville and Ginny time to exchange glances. "But I think a detention or two will do for you, Weasley. In my office after dinner until the end of the week."

Hurriedly, Ginny and Neville left, trying to stifle their laughter. Once they had reached the common room, they both doubled over with laughs. "Do you realize," Neville began, straitening up, "that he gave us detention at the same time?"

"He has no idea what he got into," Ginny said with a smirk. She picked up half of the baskets and took it over to a small table in between two extremely large arm chairs. She sunk into one of them, closely followed by Neville who brought the other half of the baskets.

"This was a great idea," he said, taking out his turkey leg and taking a healthy sized bite out of it.

"'Fanks!" Ginny said while devouring her own turkey leg.

The fire crackled and danced in the fire place as the two of them continued to enjoy their makeshift feast. It was better than all of the feasts that Neville could remember in all of his days at Hogwarts. They were about to start on the pumpkin pie and fudge, when the portrait hole opened, and both of them stared straight at each other. There goes the perfect evening.

Hermione ran in, bushy hair in a giant mass as she ran by Neville and Ginny, up to the girls' dorms. The door slammed, and the windows seemed to quiver with its force. "I better go find out what happened," Ginny said, her eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Neville agreed as Ginny stood up and ran after Hermione.

He knew what happened right away. He recognized those tears, the disappointment on her face; Harry had dumped her. Her heart had been torn in two by someone she loved and trusted. That feeling was only too familiar to Neville. But, he realized, now that she was free, he suddenly felt the same way Hermione had felt about him: they were friends, only friends; it just wasn't meant to be. He felt himself getting colder, somehow empty and hollow. He had spent so long trying to get Hermione to understand how he felt, and now it was all wasted.

"I talked to Hermione," Ginny whispered, quietly coming down the stairs and sitting down next to Neville. She looked down at her lap and sighed. "Harry dumped her."

"Yeah," Neville muttered, and after being shot a curious look by Ginny, explained, "I could kind of tell…" While Ginny just stared at him, he wondered why Harry felt like he had to end it… They seemed so perfect for each other. They complimented each other in every way. "I don't know… I thought it would last forever, but her face just made it so obvious."

"Poor Hermione," Ginny exclaimed, ringing her hands together. "I feel so bad for her…"

"Yeah…"

* * *

It was far after Ginny had gone up to bed. All of the Gryffindors had already filed out of the feast and were safely in their dorms, nursing a stomach ache or out cold from stuffing themselves with food. Neville had returned to the common room, and was running a finger lazily over a dusty, neglected chair in the corners of the common room. Boredom was overtaking him, as he stared at the fire place, now only filled with small embers slowly fading away. With a sigh, he pushed the portrait hole open, and stopped dead when the Fat Lady spoke. 

"What are you doing out at this hour?" she asked sharply.

Neville kept the back of his head to her, making sure that she wouldn't be able to see who he was. With a deep breath, he began running, and turned sharply to the marble staircase. He could have sworn he saw Mrs. Norris on his way down, but heard no mewing behind him, so shook it off. Finally, he saw the Great Hall and slowed down, holding a stitch in his side. As he crept into the hall, he stopped when he saw another figure circling the Ravenclaw table as though she was gliding.

"Neville?" It was Luna Lovegood; he would recognize that voice anywhere. Losing her grace, she did a little half trot over to him. "What are you doing here? It's far passed hours, you know."

Neville raised his eyebrows as he saw a prefect badge pinned to her robe. "Y-you're a prefect?" he asked, amazed that the hadn't noticed it before.

"Yeah," she half sighed. "I don't know why. Maybe Dumbledore wanted to make people respect me more, or something."

Neville shrugged, sitting on the top of the Gryffindor table, running his hand over what appeared to be a tic tak toe came that somebody had carved into the aged wood. "Maybe," he said distantly. "So, why are you down here?"

"Patrolling… I guess you would say," Luna said with a laugh.

She continued to talk, and Neville just nodded along, unable to follow anything she was saying. She had always been rather odd, in his eyes, but a great loneliness was filled when he was with her. But he felt that way with Ginny also. He sighed and muttered a simple, "yeah" as Luna asked his opinion on something that he had never heard about. Something was different about Luna though; well, she was different in general. The gap of loneliness she filled was different than the gap that Ginny filled. For a moment, he thought he should where one of those "mind the gap" signs that you see at Muggle underground stations.

"Neville?" Luna tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and Neville jumped about half a foot in the air.

"What?"

"I told you I was about to go to bed, you might want to go also before--"

Hurried footsteps were coming closer… "Hide!" Luna hissed to him.

Without having to be told twice, Neville hopped under the table. In no less than three seconds, he realized that he was still very visible, and pulled out his wand. Searching through all of the spells he knew, he finally decided upon a shadow charm. With a simple incantation and a wave of his wand, he became cloaked in darkness.

_Boom!_ The doors of the Great Hall crashed open and Professor Snape strode in with an air of a younger sibling who has caught their older sibling with sneaking out of the house. "Where is he!" he demanded.

"Who?" Luna asked in her usual dreamy voice.

"You know _who!_ Longbottom! I heard you talking to him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Luna insisted, moving her attention to a beetle in the corner of the room. "I was just humming to myself, while I was finishing patrolling here. I was about to go to the common room when you came in."

"Don't you lie to--"

"Tha' you, Snape?" Hagrid appeared in the doorway, his large frame taking up almost the entire thing. Snape didn't even turn to him, but stared intently at Luna, lips quivering with anger. "Scoot out, Snape, she didn' do anything wrong."

Snape turned to Hagrid, eyebrows raised. "A student is hiding in here _after hours._ We need to catch him and punish him for breaking the rules."

"Where's 'is student yer talkin' 'bout?" Hagrid asked, making sure he towered over Snape. "I don' see anybody 'ere, do you, Luna?" Luna shook her head, causing blonde strands of hair to stick up in odd directions. "See, Snape, nothing 'ere. Now--" he straightened his coat importantly "--like I said, yer might wanna scoot outa 'ere. Early start tomorrow."

With a sneer, Snape turned on his heal and left the Great Hall, his overly large nose pointed towards the ceiling. Once the door slammed behind them, and Snape's footsteps died away, he turned to the table that Neville was hiding under. "Okay, Neville, yer can come out now."

Neville pushed himself out from under the table with raised eyebrows. "How did you know I was there?" he asked, dusting his robes off.

"'M not tha' easily fooled, yer know," Hagrid informed him. "C'mon, you can come with me ter me cabin." He turned to Luna. "Yer can come too, 'f'ya want, Luna."

She shook her head. "No, it's okay, thanks," she said vaguely without any explanation of why.

"Er, righ'" Hagrid put his hand on Neville shoulder and began to lead him out of the Great Hall.

They reached his cabin, Neville's knees quivering from the weight of Hagrid's hand. Neville sat down in the same old arm chair as he had the previous visit and fiddled with a hole in his sweatshirt.

Hagrid sat down opposite him again, and offered some sort of baked food that Neville could not recognize. Not wanting to be rude, he reached out and took one. He took a rather small bite, but felt one of his teeth begin to loosen, so put it down quickly and stared at Hagrid, as though waiting for him to explain why he brought him out here.

"Well," Hagrid started, nibbling on one of his own muffin, or scone, or something of the sort. "I've noticed 'at yer've been feelin' lots better lately."

"Yeah?" Neville raised his eyebrows, and tapped his fingers on the piece of food. "Well, I've been talking to Ginny a lot lately and--"

"But," Hagrid interrupted, "yer not listenin' to me and what I told yer a'fore. S'only been a month, and yer actin' like nothing happened!"

Neville flushed a deep shade of maroon. "Nothing did happen," he shouted almost tearfully. "As far as I care, nothing happened. Nothing has changed. I'm fine now, and this is how I like it!"

"Yer not fine!" Hagrid replied calmly. "Yer just pushing it to the back o' yer mind! S'gonna come back an' haunt ya soon if ya don' confront it! I knew yer'd do this; s'why I warned yer about it earlier!" He stared down at his lap and let his hands fall, resigned, into it. "Take it from someone who knows," he added quietly. "The truth hurts, bu' you 'ave to confront it. Ye' can' change some things like this. Ye' can' change anything that happens. If yer can realize what's hurtin' you can fix it. Numbin' the pain'll only make it worse when it comes back… tha's what Dumbledore says… wise man."

Standing up, Neville clenched his fist. His scone (he had decided it resembled a scone most) fell to the floor and clattered under the table loudly, where Fang sniffed wearily at it. He had completely lost his temper for the first time in quite a long time. "You think I need your help!" he shouted, fists shaking with rage. "Why does everybody think I need their help! Nobody goes around stalking Harry about his problems! I can deal with what I've been given! I obviously can because whoever handed it to me knew I could handle it! I don't need all of your damn advice!"

Hagrid, obviously taken aback by this, didn't say anything. He just stared at Neville with raised eyebrows. Without another word, Neville ran out of the cabin, clutching his wand before him.

The forest loomed over him; trees were bent in a slight arch from all of the storms that had been coming through. They looked as though they were beckoning him forward. "Lumos!" His wand illuminated the vague path before him, and he carefully stepped into the darkness of the wood.

He had been in the forest before of course, but only in his first year when he had gotten a particularly nasty detention with Harry, Hermione and Malfoy. The wind blew through the trees, causing almost a whisper to creep around him. If he concentrated hard enough, he could have sworn he could almost make words out of the eerie whispers.

As he rounded a corner, he stopped for a moment, examining what appeared to be hoof prints on the ground. They led farther and farther into the forest, off of the trail. Ignoring his better judgment, he followed the hoof prints through the bushes and trees, getting plenty of cuts and bruises on the way. After nearly twenty minutes of aimless wandering, he stumbled out of the trees and bushes, and into a clearing. Except, the clearing wasn't just an empty space. A fire was smoldering in the middle of the clearing surrounded by…

Neville took a step backwards, his eyes growing wide. This wasn't the best time for him to run into a clan of centaurs.

"What are you doing here?" A centaur, with black hair long enough to brush the spot where his human torso merged with his horse body approached. "This our land and you are not welcome on it." He kicked up some dirt with his hoof. "You are lucky that you are still a fawn," he said, turning his back to him. Neville as puzzled by this crossed his arms stubbornly. "Or we would be much more drastic about this."

"I'm not leaving the forest," Neville said firmly. "I'll leave this area if you like, but I have the same right to wander the forest as you do."

The centaur scoffed loudly, before turning around and kicking up dirt into Neville's face behind him. He galloped off into the trees, and Neville, for one blissful moment, thought he had won. Before he could celebrate his victory by continuing to venture through the forest, the centaur came back out of the mass of trees, followed by another centaur.

This other centaur was rather bizarre; Neville had never seen any centaur quite like this one. His hair was a deep auburn with gray streaks running through it. The fur on his horse half was nearly silver, and he had a small goatee the exact same color. Age lagged his face into wrinkles that seemed to bounce as he spoke. "Human!" he said forcefully. Neville was rather surprised at the strength of his voice. He had expected him to have a raspy old voice, but instead it was strong and clear like a bell. "Leave! We have already warned you! Don't make us force you."

"He would not listen to me, Cathicias." The first centaur said, with a sharp glare down at Neville. "He says it's as much of his right to be here, than ours."

The old centaur called Cathicias bucked violently. "What!" he roared. He didn't even look at Neville and turned sharply to the younger centaur. "Magorian, he has already lost all of his respect. He does not deserve the gift of life that we were about to give." In a swift movement, Cathicias turned around and began galloping away sharply into the trees where he came. Neville swallowed hard and stared into Magorian's unmerciful face.

"The leader of the centaurs says you are not worthy of our gift." He raised a hand in the air.

In an instant, centaurs came pouring out of the trees. There were women, men and children all circling Neville and Magorian. In a slight panic, Neville took out his wand and pointed it towards the sky to protect himself. With as much force as he could muster, he let an extremely loud BANG shoot out of his wand like a canon. The centaurs rioted, the children bucked angrily, while the adults smashed on the ground loudly with their hooves.

"This is not your place!" one wheezy old centaur shouted. The other centaurs yelled their agreements.

"It's just as much my place as it is yours!" Neville responded, pointing his wand at the old centaur who had yelled at him.

"No it's not!" a centaur that looked around the age of twenty said, more calmly than the others. He stepped to a spot where Neville could see him. He had short blonde hair in a sort of bob, and eyes the color of sapphires. "Your place is written in the stars with Harry Potter!"

Neville stopped, and let arm drop limply at his side. _"What?"_ he asked incredulously.

But before he could get his answer, the children centaurs galloped towards him. The blonde haired, blue eyed centaur soon went out of view as the miniature centaurs tackled him and began to smack him with their hooves, shouting at him and screeching.

"GERROFF!" he shouted, trying to throw one of them off of him. A hoof smashed into his jaw, and he heard a satisfying crack, to tell him that his jaw was broken. He was now on his knees, covering his head as not to be killed by their blows. His surroundings were blacking in and out, hardly able to keep himself conscious.

A large figure appeared before him and everything completely blacked out.

* * *

Light came vaguely into view, as Neville's eyes fluttered open. Everything was more or less a large blur bustling around a large room. He noticed that he was lying on his back, and was covered with a blanket and a pair of uncomfortable itchy pajamas. _I must be in the hospital wing,_ he decided, rubbing his eyes. Once everything came into focus, he was, in fact, in the hospital wing, tucked tightly into one of the awkwardly sized beds. 

"Don't do that, dear," Madam Pomfrey said, gently pushing Neville's hands away from his face. "I need to do something about that nasty bruise, and I can't if your hands are in the way."

She put a cloth with some sort of orange goo smothered on it against his face and dabbed it until she pulled away a considerably less orange cloth. Neville winced as it began to do whatever job it was supposed to do. It didn't exactly hurt, but if felt very bizarre, as it began to mend the large bruise on his face.

Madam Pomfrey turned around and stared directly at Hagrid, who was sitting on one of the beds which looked like it might collapse any second now under the weight. "So," she said sharply, "you say that your dog got a little over excited to see him?" Hagrid blinked at Neville, who got the message right away. _Play along. _"I highly doubt a dog could do that."

"Yeah," Hagrid said, scratching his chin under his heavily matted beard. "Fang's a bit o' work."

Madam Pomfrey turned to Neville with raised eyebrows. "Is this true?"

"Er, yeah," Neville lied quickly. "I came in with some food in my pockets, and Fang just got really excited. He_ is_ a very big dog."

"Well, I suppose _that's_ a believable story." She put down the cloth and began to bustle towards another student who had gotten on Moaning Myrtle's bad side; people really didn't understand what she was capable of.

Once Neville was sure that Madam Pomfrey wasn't paying attention, he sat up and turned to Hagrid. "Er, Hagrid," he began trying as hard as he could not to look like a total jerk, "d'dya know what time it is?"

"S'November second," Hagrid said matter-of-factly. "Four o'clock."

"What!" Neville's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious! I've been out cold for a day!"

"Well-" Hagrid lowered his tone "-them centaur's beat the life outa yer, if yer let 'em."

"W-was it you who saved me?" Neville asked after a long pause.

"I s'pose yer could say 'at. I don' think it was really savin' yer. Jus' told 'em to lay off." Neville noticed that Hagrid was nursing a rather nasty cut along his left arm.

"Neville!" For a moment, Neville's eyes went unfocused, and all he could see was a mass of red hair bobbing towards him; he knew at once it was Ginny. "Neville, we were so worried about you!" His eyes came back into focus, and he noticed Luna was standing there behind him, looking as though she had no idea why or how she had been dragged here. "After I saw you in the hospital wing out cold, and with that bruise!" She pointed to the orange goo on his face. "Oh I'm so glad you're up!" She made tentative moves towards him, but then stopped, staring at the ground awkwardly. "I guess a hug would kind of hurt wouldn't it?"

But before Neville could answer, Luna piped up, "I knew you would be okay." A wispy smile appeared across her face. "After the last few divination lessons."'

Ginny snorted with laughter, and someone else's laughter joined in. Hermione came bustling through with her hands on her hips. "Divination," she told Luna, rather coldly, "is a load of rubbish. I don't know why Dumbledore is allowing it to still be taught.

And they continued talking like that for what seemed like hours. Neville just let his mind wander, deciding that he'd use the excuse of dozing off if anybody asked him about it. There he was standing with the three girls who probably impacted his life most. Confusion swept over him like a tidal wave and he let his eyes close.

"Well," Ginny's voice cut his thoughts short. "I'm sure you both have a lot of homework."

"Oh no," Luna said with a far away glimmer in her eyes. "I don't have much at all."

"And I did almost all of mine yesterday during my breaks."

The corners of Neville's mouth began twitching as he tried to hide a smile. That had always been Ginny's excuse when she wanted somebody to leave. "Hey, you guys?" he said, in as sickly as a voice as possible. "I'm starting to feel a little woozy, could you do me a favor and let me rest?"

"Oh of course!" Hermione nodded firmly. "Yes, come on Ginny, Luna."

"Actually," Neville interrupted. "I kind of wanted to ask Ginny something. It won't be long."

Hermione seemed a little taken aback by this, but instead of fighting, she resigned and began to walk out of the hospital wing importantly with Luna behind her.

"Thanks," Ginny said, awkwardly putting her hands in her pockets, and then taking them out again as though unsure of why she had them in the first place.

"Well, I know you. I know when you want to get somebody out."

"Yeah…" she said, almost as vaguely as Luna. "Yeah, you know me really well. That's sort of like what I wanted to talk to you about." She took a deep would-be-calming breath, but exhaled it far to fast. "Well, I mean, ever since I met you I-- I mean-- well…" Another breath. "I thought that we--"

"Nev!" Harry and Ron strode through the doorway, still caring their book bags.

Ginny blushed a light pink and bit her lip.

"We came to see you after we heard what happened!" Harry said, waving his hands to make sure Neville recognized him.

"Or really didn't hear what happened," Ron added. "Nobody in the school knows why you were out cold for a day."

"It was Fang," Neville said hurriedly. "Got excited and knocked me down."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Neville knew that they both knew that Fang would never do anything of the sort. He raised his eyebrows at them, giving them the same message that Hagrid had given him.

"Right you lot!" Madam Pomfrey came bustling back. "This boy needs his rest! Have you not seen that bruise on his face? Go on!" She shoed them out the door and shut it with a loud _bang_ before turning to Neville. "Go on, get some rest."

* * *

**AN:** Yay I actually got more reviewers this last chapter! This one took a very short time to write. I don't know why. I think it's because I've spent the last two days sitting in front of this computer writing. Well, I wouldn't expect the next one as fast, sadly, but I'll try. Thank you to all of the reviewers! Because everyone knows how much reviews rock! Thanks again! 

Eponine's Heir


	7. Untold Secrets

Through a Hero's Eyes

Chapter seven: Untold Secrets

"_So dark! So dark and deep! The secrets that you keep!"_

Cosette, Les Misérables

* * *

The rest of November passed quickly enough. Once Neville and Hagrid convinced everybody that Fang had gotten very excited, the rumors died in a matter of days. December passed also, fairly quickly. Nothing much interesting happened, except for a triumphant Gryffindor victory over Hufflepuff in a fantastic Quidditch game.

The last day before the Christmas holiday found Neville packing his trunk bitterly. It was rather empty, compared to all of his other dorm mate's.

"NEVILLE!" Ginny screeched jumping into the dorm. "COME ON!" She was obviously excited to get to spend the holiday with her best friend. "Hurry up! Hurry up! We're all waiting for you in Dumbledore's office!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" He picked up a sweater sitting on his bed and slipped it on. His Gran had made it for him a few years ago; it was no Weasley sweater, but it was good enough for him. With a great heave, he picked up his trunk and struggled with it for a few moments.

"Oh don't be stupid!" Ginny said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. With a complicated wave of her wand, his trunk became as light as a feather. "Come _on!"_ And she took off at a run, Neville followed not far behind, huffing and puffing while trying to keep his trunk from bruising his knee caps. Finally, they arrived in front of the stone gargoyle, and Ginny shouted, "Drooble's Best Blowing Gum!"

They burst into Dumbledore's office, Neville clutching a stitch at his side.

"Glad you decided to show up," Ron exclaimed sarcastically.

"We must hurry," Dumbledore interrupted. "The ministry will notice the illegal portkey." He held out a very poorly knitted sock. "Don't worry about your trunks," he continued, gesturing towards the pile of trunks on the other side of the room, "We will have them there a matter of seconds after you. Now, everyone put a finger on the portkey."

Everybody obeyed, Neville a little warily. He hated portkeys; they always made him sick. To take his mind off of the nauseating journey ahead of him, he glanced around the circle. Ginny looked excited as before. Ron wore the same expression as his sister, standing between Harry and Hermione. Harry was staring at his shoes, while Hermione had her nose up high in the air. Neville and Ginny exchanged glances; things must not have gotten better since the break up.

"Three," Dumbledore began, trying to break the silence. "Two-" Hermione let out a frustrated sigh "-one!"

A jerk near Neville's naval made him wince. It was an extraordinary thing, no matter how much he hated it. In a matter of seconds, they landed loudly in the hall of an old house.

Neville struggled to standing before holding out his arm to help Ginny up also. But as she began to stand, curtains on the other side of the room were flung open, and a portrait hidden behind them started screeching. Rather surprised, Neville dropped Ginny, and she landed with an "OOF!"

"BLOOD TRAITORS!" the portrait shrieked. Neville noticed that the subject looked like she was in quite a lot of pain. In fact, she looked as though somebody was standing behind her performing the Cruciatus curse. He shuddered as he remembered the pain of that curse. "MUDBLOODS!"

"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley walked out of a door and ran up towards them. "Oh, it's great to see all of you." A smile spread across her face as she surveyed each of them in turn, Neville for a moment longer than everyone else. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up; he had always hated being stared at like some sort of animal.

"STINKING UP MY HOUSE WITH THEIR FILTH!"

"Well," she said, turning to the portrait still screeching. "I better quiet that before she gets all of the other portraits going." With that, Mrs. Weasley ran off to try and shut the curtains.

A group of adult witches and wizards followed, all looking thoroughly annoyed at the painting. "Ah!" Professor Lupin jogged up to them, running a hand through his prematurely graying hair. "It's great to see that you all got here." The comment seemed to be directed towards Neville. "I hope you've all been well," Lupin continued.

"'ello, everybody!" A woman who couldn't be older than twenty three ran up to them, waving enthusiastically. Her hair was a fiery orange, bright enough to rival any of the Weasley's. She had a rather small nose and eyes the color of storm clouds. She greeted everybody enthusiastically until she got to Neville and stopped. "Longbottom?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Er — yeah… don't mean to be rude or anything… but who're you?" Neville asked, frowning slightly.

"The name's Tonks!" the woman said with a wink.

"Hi, Tonks," Neville said a little awkwardly.

"Maybe," Lupin interrupted, "Harry and Ron should show Neville where he'll be staying? We put an extra bed in that room for you three."

"Er, okay!" Ron began to take off towards the stairs, waving his hand to Harry and Neville to follow. They did, somewhat grudgingly. Neville noticed that Harry held his gaze with Lupin for quite some time before shifting his concentration to the steep stairs he was climbing. "Right over here, Nev," Ron informed him, pushing the door open. "You're bed is right there!" He pointed to a rather rickety looking bed under a window that cast eerie shadows across it.

A shiver ran up and down Neville spine as he saw his trunk at the foot of it. Without looking towards either of them, he began to walk towards the bed and sat down. Seeing their expectant faces, he smiled softly, as though to tell them that it was a fine place to stay.

"Kreacher would think," a wheezy voice said from the corner, "that Harry _Potter _and Weasley would not come back. And who is _this _who Kreacher sees in the corner? Some sort of blood traitor, I'm sure. These mudbloods and blood traitors are stinking up my mistress's house."

"Kreacher!" Harry suddenly became enraged. "Kreacher you lying bastard! Get _out!_!" Reaching towards his bed, he picked up a pillow and threw it violently in Kreacher's direction.

"Harry Potter," Kreacher said, the pillow skimming the top of his ears, "has quite a nasty temper, Kreacher has noticed."

"Kreacher," Ron said, a little more calmly, "get out."

The elderly house elf, apparently called Kreacher, laughed and crossed his withered arms.

"Er, hi," Neville said, standing up and walking towards the old house elf. "My name's Neville Longbottom."

Kreacher's eyes brightened with as he heard Neville's name. "A Longbottom?"

"Get _out_, Kreacher!" Harry demanded, a worried look sweeping over him.

Without another word, Kreacher turned around and left the room, chuckling to himself.

"Don't go mixing around with that scum!" Harry shouted to Neville, slamming the door.

Ron stared down at his lap; he obviously knew what was going on.

"What?" Neville asked, blinking. "What's so bad about that house elf?"

"It's his fault that Sirius died!"

Neville ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Oh," was all he managed to mutter. He glanced over at Ron, who was staring determinately at an empty portrait on the wall.

"I'm going to see if Buckbeak is still there," Harry muttered, picking his pillow up from the ground and throwing it onto his bed. His face turning a deep shade of red, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

"Bit of a problem, that house elf was," Ron explained again.

"Yeah, I could tell." Neville sighed heavily and ran a finger over the rough sheets of his bed.

They sat in silence for almost half an hour, until the door creaked open slowly. Ginny's head popped in the door, and she mumbled, "Hey, dinner's ready. Have either of you seen Harry? Mum's really worried about him…"

"I think he's with Buckbeak," Ron responded. Neville just shrugged; he had thought that Buckbeak had been killed in their third year, but strange things were always happening around Hogwarts.

"Oh." Ginny turned around and shouted down the stairs. "Hermione! He's with Buckbeak!"

A flustered "Okay" was the only response.

"Right, c'mon. Mum'll go mad if we're late."

* * *

The rest few days passed in awkward silences. Neville felt very left out, despite Ginny's attempts to include him in everything. The truth was just that he had never been there before; he didn't know who this house elf was and how he killed Sirius Black. New members of the Order of the Phoenix arrived every day. Mad Eye Moody, once, came with a stack of parchment about as big as all of Neville's books combined.

Finally, Christmas morning arrived. It wasn't something Neville was particularly looking forward to, considering that he had no family to share it with. _What a selfish thought, _he kept reminding himself. Harry didn't have any family either, and he was never whining about it. _Well, except for last year…_

"NEVILLE!" Ginny's shrill screech woke him on Christmas morning. Neville shot out of his bed to see Ginny in pink pajama pants she had obviously grown out of a few years ago and a violet tank top, sitting at the foot of his bed. "C'mon! Get up! It's Christmas!"

Neville laughed; Christmas had always been Ginny's favorite holiday. He stood up to reveal his pajama pants, decorated with a rather predictable pattern of toads, and a muggle T-shirt with the words _Star Wars_ across the bottom and some sort of muggle airplane shooting at another; he had gotten the shirt from his Great Uncle Algie, when he tried living as a muggle for two weeks.

Ginny grabbed him by the hand and pulled him up the stairs to a rather extensively decorated tree in drawing room. Presents in sparkling wrapping paper under the fairy decorated tree. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already there, picking their own presents out of the bunch. Ron, of course, was sitting in between Harry and Hermione, who seemed to have softened up towards each other because of the holiday, but still didn't seem to be where they used to.

Once each of them had a rather large pile in front of them, they began to unwrap their gifts. Harry, who was the first to unwrap a rather measly sized box, held up a toothpick. "They get nicer every year," he said, throwing the toothpick into the fire, crackling in the corner.

"Who was that from?" Neville inquired, amazed that anybody would bother to send a toothpick.

"The Durlseys," Harry responded, rolling his eyes. "My aunt and uncle and cousin. I grew up with them."

"Oh…" Neville began to carefully peel the wrapping paper off of a package that looked suspiciously like a Weasley sweater. Ron already opened his maroon sweater, and Ginny had already opened hers, which was light lavender; Hermione also began to unwrap hers, which seemed to be leaning in the scarlet direction. Neville finally picked his up. His face fell when he saw it, a hideous mustard yellow, with a pale blue N knitted in the front.

Ron snorted when he saw this, and dropped the case of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that Ginny have given him. "Yours is even worse than mine!" he exclaimed, stifling his laughter with his fist.

Hermione, on the other hand, tried to smile and said, "I think it's quite nice."

"It's okay," Neville said, laughing quietly. "It's kind of funny, actually." He slipped it on over his Star Wars shirt. By then, Harry had unwrapped his. It was a bottle green, the same color as his eyes. That seemed to be the popular color for Harry. "Fudge from Hagrid!" Neville announced, taking his eyes off Harry.

"Wouldn't eat that if I were you," Ron said through a mouth full of Bertie Bott's. "You'll probably regret it later, when you have to go get four teeth replaced."

Next to Ron, Hermione squealed with delight, holding up a large leather bound book with the title _'Enhancing Magical Protection – How to Stop Muggles from Noticing.' _"Oh Ron!" she shouted, embracing Ron. "How did you know I've wanted this!" Ron grinned, as Hermione left the rest of her gifts unnoticed and cracked the book open and started to read.

Neville, however, continued opening. He ended up getting a huge book about Defense Against the Dark Arts from Harry, chocolate frogs from Ron, and a plant called an Auctidym plant. She explained that the plant only flourished in an environment with a couple, and was very rare. Neville blushed at this; his present for her, a silver charm bracelet, was not nearly as good as that.

Once everybody had gone to help Mrs. Weasley with her Christmas dinner, Neville rushed to his room, telling everybody that he was going to work on a makeup assignment. The room was empty, except for piles of presents on Harry and Ron's beds. Following their lead, Neville dropped his own gifts on the bed and pulled a pinch of Floo powder out of his pocket. With a deep breath, he threw the powder into the flames, and whispered, "St. Mungo's Hospital!"

In a flash of green flame, he was spinning through fireplaces of the Wizarding community until he landed loudly in the main hall of St. Mungo's. Without a word to the witch at the front desk, he found his way to his parent's ward and knocked quietly.

"Come in!" a hushed voice said.

Neville pushed the door open, to see his father sleeping, and his mother staring at a picture of what appeared to be him as a boy.

"Frank just got to sleep," the healer said quietly. "You may not want to wake him, but Alice just woke up." Neville smiled and nodded at her. "Merry Christmas," she whispered, before going to tend for other patients.

Neville tip toed over to his mother's bed and sat down on a stool next to her. "Hi, mum," he said quietly, taking a peek at the picture. It was, in fact, him as a small child. The picture waved and grinned sheepishly, pointing to a stain on his jeans. Neville remembered the day immediately. It was when he had fallen off of his toy broom and fell down a hill. "I see you found the picture that G-Gran sent you a few months ago." Alice nodded, eyes glittering with excitement. "I love you mum, and I'd love to stay longer… but nobody knows I'm here and I don't want them to worry… I'll visit you again soon, okay?" Alice tore her eyes off of the picture and smiled widely; Neville flashed a smile also, the same smile as his mother's.

"Merry Christmas, mum," he whispered, putting a locket on her bedside table. The healer would assume that he left it, once she looked at the picture inside. Gran and him waved merrily in the heart shaped frame.

Hurriedly, Neville rushed to the fire and quickly found himself in Grimmauld Place in his bedroom. It was empty, thankfully, and he rushed down the stairs into the kitchen.

"Neville!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, once Neville ran through the doorway. "Where have you been? I thought you were in your room, but when Ginny looked for you fifteen minutes ago, you weren't there!"

"Oh," Neville muttered, thinking fast. "Well, I went looking for Buckbeak… I always liked him, but I couldn't really find him. I found myself wandering around this old house…"

"Oh, well don't go opening any cabinets, dear," she said, returning to a soup that she was cooking. "Things seem to spring out of them."

The rest of that day passed quickly. Neville thoroughly enjoyed sitting at steps right in the hall and seeing all of the wizards popping in and out for the holiday. With all of the Apparating, the screaming portrait must've gone off at least seven times in the course of that day. Finally, Christmas dinner was ready, and all of the inhabitants (except for Kreacher and maybe a doxy or two) reported to the overly crowded kitchen.

"How was your Christmas, Neville?" Lupin asked. Neville jumped; he hadn't even noticed Lupin. He turned to Ginny, who was sitting next to him, raising his eyebrows. She shrugged in response.

"Er — it was okay," Neville said, as Mrs. Weasley put a rather large turkey in the middle of the table. "I a Weasley sweater," he said, pointing to his mustard yellow sweater before adding, "and a great Auctidym plant from Ginny."

"Ah," Lupin exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "The Auctidym plant! One of the rarest, native to … Turkey, if I'm correct?" Neville and Ginny both nodded. "Yes, I don't even think that Professor Sprout has one. She would be very interested in seeing it, once you get back to school. As for the thriving in an atmosphere with a loving couple…" A split grin illuminated his scratched, bruised, and sunken in face. "I'm sure it will thrive here, because of Molly and Arthur. Hopefully, it will in Hogwarts too… I'm sure all of the – er 'teenage romance' should give it some life." Ginny began giggling, as she speared a piece of broccoli onto her fork.

_Crack!_

Dumbledore appeared in the kitchen, rubbing his forehead. He had never seemed so old, to Neville. But now, he looked somewhat like one's crazy great-great-grandfather who just escaped from a retirement home. "Ah!" The flicker returned back to his eyes as he saw the fabulous Christmas dinner. "Molly you've outdone yourself," he added, flashing a smile towards Mrs. Weasley. "Well, I'd love to stay, but unfortunately, it must be a quick visit. I've only escaped the Christmas dinner at Hogwarts for a few moments, telling Minerva I was going to the bathroom, and I fear if I'm away too long she might think I have more problems than I appear to."

Laughter rang through the cramped kitchen at that comment. Neville watched butterbeer squirt out of Ron's noise, and he hurriedly picked up his napkin to conceal it.

"I'm afraid, however," Dumbledore continued, more solemnly this time, "that a simple 'merry Christmas' is not why I have come here. We are in need of some insider information. Severus Snape has been kind enough to make us a good amount of Veritaserum. Tomorrow you are to go to Azkaban Prison and question these-" he pulled out a large scroll or parchment "-prisoners."

Lupin took the parchment and scanned the names carefully. "Is the prison keeper aware of us coming?"

"Yes, he is," Dumbledore replied, taking his hat off and wiping his brow. "And," he added, attention turning to Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville and Ginny, "since this mission involves such a low level of danger, I think it would be suitable for _everybody_ to attend."

Ginny's face lightened immediately, and Neville heard her whisper, "yes!"

"Now, I should get going before anybody gets suspicious," Dumbledore finished, taking out his wand and flicking it.

_Crack!_

He disappeared again, and the kitchen burst into excited talk of the next day. Ginny immediately turned to Neville and shouted, "Oh I can't believe we finally get to do something for the Order!" Her face was a light pink with excitement. "They told us we wouldn't be allowed to do anything until we graduated! This is so exciting!"

"BLOOD TRAITORS!"

"Oh damn!" Arthur Weasley shouted, letting his silverware fall to his plate with a loud clatter. "Who would Apparate here now!" He stood up and ran a hand over the balding spot on his head. "Well, I'll go shut that damn painting up!"

"Merry Christmas, all!" two voices chimed from the doorway. Fred and George walked through the doorway, in all of their grinning, freckled, glory.

"OH!" Mrs. Weasley stood up also, and ran over to the twins. "Fred, George, what took you two so long?"

"Business has been _booming!_" George announced proudly.

"We just had to finish up some last minute sales," Fred continued.

George settled between Ron and Ginny. "So," he said as Fred sat on the other side of Ron. "What have we missed?"

"Well," Ron explained, "Tomorrow we're going to Azkaban to question some of those death eaters."

Fred's face lightened and he chuckled to himself. "Oh, I doubt you'll get anything out of them," he said, serving himself a huge helping of turkey. "Those loonies must've lost it years ago."

"That bloody portrait!" Mr. Weasley reentered the kitchen. "We should take a leaf out of her book and put a permanent sticking charm and cover it." He sat back down at his place and starting furiously ripping apart a turkey leg.

Hours passed, and Neville was just finishing up a very generous helping of pudding when Mrs. Weasley said, "We'll have to get up very early tomorrow morning." There was a mutual groan that ran through the entire room. "Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville, I want you all to bed."

Without another word, they stood up and shuffled out of the room.

* * *

The sun was hardly up that morning when Mrs. Weasley gently shook Neville up. "We're leaving in half an hour," she said softly. "Dress warm, we're going up north."

Neville groaned and pushed himself out of bed, fumbling through his trunk to find clothes. The sleep in his eyes cleared up and he peered around the room to find Harry and Ron digging through their trunks, also. After five minutes of dressing in silence, Neville wandered down to the kitchen in the sweater his Gran made for him, under his new Weasley sweater, a pair of very heavy sweatpants and his school robe. Ginny followed in a similar outfit, and sat down in silence, rubbing her eyes groggily.

Mrs. Weasley bustled across the kitchen and placed two hard boiled eggs in front of them. "We don't have time for a huge breakfast… and you won't want to eat much yet, anyway, with all of the dementors around."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione came down shortly after. Hermione made herself a piece of toast, while Harry and Ron took hard boiled eggs also. Nobody spoke; they used all of their energy to focus on eating and waking up.

_Crack! _Fred and George stood next to their mother, who was holding her heart and panting heavily. "Boys, if I have told you once, I've told you a thousand times!" she began, furiously.

"Mum," George whined, "you can't expect us to _walk _down the stairs if you're going to wake us up so early!"

"Everybody ready?" Arthur Weasley asked from the doorway. "We're taking Floo Powder, and then there will be a short boat ride. So I brought these." He pulled out a poncho and displayed it proudly. "There's one for everybody!"

Ginny's eyes grew to the size of galleons as she saw the poncho. "Oh dad," she whispered, blushing fiercely.

In a matter of seven minutes, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Hermione, Harry, Lupin, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks were all standing in front of the fire place. All of the other Order members couldn't get out of their jobs for the day. "Right," Professor Lupin held out a pot of Floo Powder. "Tonks, you should go first, since you know the place better than all of us. Molly, Arthur, you two should go next. Then all of the kids… and I'll bring up the rear."

They obeyed, and stood in a sort of line, waiting for their turn. Finally, once Ginny had disappeared into the emerald flames, Neville reached into the pot and took a pinch of powder. He disappeared in a flash, and began spinning until he landed loudly in the fireplace.

Neville stood up, and examined his surroundings. It was a room that wouldn't be out of place in the Hogwarts dungeons. There was a drip, somewhere that seemed to be irritating Ron very much. Once Lupin landed in the fire place, he pointed to a door that Neville would have sworn wasn't there before. Tonks pushed it open lightly, and held it for everybody to pass through.

It led to a dock, with a pathetically sized boat rocking back and forth on the icy waters. Ginny was the first to clamber into the boat. It rocked dangerously, but calmed down after a few seconds. Very carefully, everybody followed her lead. Once they were all packed into the aged boat, Lupin tapped it with the back of his wand. At an unnerving speed, the boat took off, zooming across the body of water.

A distant island came into view after half and hour of the sickening ride. Once the boat bumped lightly onto shore, everybody clambered out, grateful to be on dry land. "You're Dumbledore's party?" an elderly wizard asked. He was a very odd character, Neville noticed. His ears stuck out far too much, and his right was much higher up than his left. His hair was brown – mostly – except a large spot at the top that looked like the snow on the top of a very tall mountain.

"Yes, we are," Tonks answered, obviously trying not to laugh at the man's appearance.

"Right…" the man muttered, turning around. He placed a hand on the wall, and it swung open. "Right this way," he added, stepping through the door. There was a general shuffling behind him as everybody entered. Right when they entered a feeling of dread suffocated around him. It was colder, much colder; Neville hugged himself to save warmth and saw Ginny shivering next to him.

They reached a sort of entrance hall. It was more of a large, empty chamber with a bench than anything. "I'm aware that Dumbledore has given you a list with the prisoners' cell numbers?"

Lupin held out a list, and the man checked it before giving it back. "Well, most of those cells are to the left." He pointed to a corridor. "Just take that hall down and you'll run into all of them… except for one, who's at the right."

"Okay, thank you, sir," Tonks said politely. She turned to the group. "Right, so how about we split these up? The kids can go with Remus?" Lupin nodded.

"Oh," Lupin reached into his pocket and pulled out a few large chunks of chocolate and slapped one chunk in everybody's hand. "Can't forget these. Just in case."

Neville pocketed his chocolate and pulled out his wand. "Right, so…" Lupin beckoned them forward. "Let's go…" The corridors dripped, giving Neville a dull headache as they crept farther and farther into Azkaban.

"Who're we questioning?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice.

"Mmm…" Lupin lit up his wand and checked the parchment. "A death eater called Travers. He murdered the McKinnons…" Neville fiddled with a hole in his jeans; he was probably the only one who didn't want to be there.

Halfway down the corridor, an even greater cold swept over them. A sucking sound near by, told them what was approaching. "Stand back," Lupin said, whipping out his wand. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ he shouted. A blinding light lit up the corridor – only blinding because of how everybody's eyes had gotten accustomed to the dark – and the dementor was driven away immediately. The silvery light died down, and Lupin turned to each of them. "Everybody alright?"

Everybody nodded slowly, except for Neville. His face was a stark white, and his hands were shaking. "C-c-can I go back to the main hall?" he stuttered.

The protective look on Lupin's face softened into a pitying face. "Yeah, that may be a good idea," he said softly. "Just go down the hall until you find it."

"Right," Neville muttered, and turned around on his heals. He waited until their footsteps died down, and began to run, puffing under his robes and two sweaters. He kept his eyes pealed open for any dementors approaching. He was almost there when –

"Where are you running, boy?" a raspy old voice asked.

Neville stopped dead in his tracks, staring desperately around for who called to him. "Who's there?"

"Don't be daft boy, I'm right here."

Neville turned slowly to the cell next to him, and made a quiet choking noise when he saw its inhabitant. An old man stared back at him, face as gaunt as a skull. His eyes were the first thing that Neville noticed. They were an empty gray, so distant that it looked as though it belonged to a corpse.

"What are you running from, boy?"

"I-I-" Neville was quite startled by all of the sudden questions. The other prisoners didn't talk to them… what was so different with this one? "I ran into a dementor…" he finished lamely.

"Well, they won't bother them, if they don't bother you," the old wizard said curtly.

Neville inched closer. "That's not what I learned." Again, he inched closer until his face was pressing up against the bars of the cell. "Wh-what are you in here for?" he asked curiously.

"The ministry - those oafs - think I was involved in the Longbottom torturing," the wizard responded, an exasperated look flickering across his face.

Neville froze; his head got very heavy, and suddenly, he felt very cold. "An-and what is your name?"

"Claude Lestrange."

Neville simply stared, his palms grew sweaty and he let them slip off the bars.

"But I didn't do anything," Claude Lestrange continued. "It was my two sons, my daughter in law and that mouse of a boy Barty Crouch Jr. But what do you care?"

"I-I-I-" Neville stuttered, "I have a friend who was close to the Longbottoms… tell me, why did _you _get put in Azkaban?"

"For being their father. Ridiculous isn't it? I never even got a trial… They think, now that I'm mad, and they can't release me… Fifteen years, I've been here… and all they let me keep is this." He held out a small locket.

Timidly, Neville took it, and gazed at the picture inside. Two men, around their mid twenties, gazed back at him, carnivorous expressions on their faces. His breath caught at the back of his throat as he examined the younger looking man. "Th-this is Tiberius Proditirus!" he shouted, shoving the locket back in the man's cell. "The one on the left! It's Tiberius Proditirus!"

Lestrange took it and examined the man on the left, chuckling to himself. "Who the hell is Tiberius Proditirus?" He laughed even harder, apparently the answer dawning on him. "Oh, this is my youngest boy, Rabastan Lestrange… always a clever one, Rabastan was. He was a Metamorphmagus. The only time he ever took his true shape was when he was a small child… even before he went to Hogwarts. So Dumbledore never knew… Such a clever boy… He landed himself here for torturing the Longbottoms, though. Got out last year, with all of the other scum in the family. So who is this Tiberius Proditirus character he's pretending to be?"

Neville's jaw dropped. The whole time… he had been with the man responsible… Eyes flaring he turned around sharply and began to leave.

"Where are you going, boy?" Lestrange asked, more harshly this time. "I asked you a question."

"What!" Neville shouted, turning back around.

The old man's eyes softened, as he saw the look on Neville face. Pushing that question aside, he asked softly, "What's your name, boy?"

"My name is Harry," Neville lied quickly, before turning and running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Faster than he ever had before, Neville sprinted, just trying as hard as he could to get away from Claude Lestrange and the horrible truth he carried with him. _Please don't let it be true…_ he prayed. Coldness engulfed him, again, and he stopped running, panting heavily. A sucking noise drew his attention to a great hooded figure gliding towards him. Without another thought, Neville pulled out his wand, and pointed it at the dementor.

It came closer, arms reaching out towards him.

_Think happy…_ Neville had never produced a real Patronus before… he prayed that this time it would work.

His mother, slowly drifting off to sleep squeezing his hand came into his vision.

"_No one's gonna harm you…_

_Not while I'm around…"_

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

Nothing happened.

His grandmother holding his hand singing him to sleep…

"_Nothing's gonna harm you,_

_No sir,_

_Not while I'm around…"_

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

Warmth flooded through Neville's fingertips, and into his wand. In a great burst of silver light, a great vulture flew out of his wand. "GET IT!" Neville shouted, holding his wand steady. The vulture flew towards the dementor, closer and closer, until it began to back up. Once it had turned around completely and began gliding away, Neville lowered his wand; the vulture flickered and disappeared in a matter of seconds, and he stood triumphantly his wand shaking.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!" _Harry ran towards Neville, wand extended. A great stag burst out of his wand and chased into the darkness. "Did you see that?" he panted. "That dementor almost got you!"

For the second time in fifteen minutes, Neville's jaw hit the floor. "Yeah, but it didn't! Because _I_ chased it away!" Harry just stared blankly. "You think you're the only one who can get rid of a dementor, _Patronus Potter?_" he hissed. "But I'm strong enough! I don't need _your _help all the time! I'm not nearly as helpless as you think I am!"

Harry just stood, eyebrows raised, unable to say anything.

"I'm going to wait for the others," Neville snapped, storming off. When he finally reached the entrance hall, Ginny was already there, sitting on the bench and nibbling chocolate. Neville sat next to her silently, hands shaking.

It was only a matter of minutes before they were in the boat again, riding over the biting waves. Nobody said a word; nobody dared to ask Harry or Neville what had happened… Neville kept his stony silence, not willing to talk to anybody. Nobody deserved to know what happened… Nobody would have cared anyway…

* * *

**AN: **Sorry this chapter took so long; I've been battling writer's block all week. Just so you know, chapters may take longer now; I'll be seeing a lot less of the computer. Finals are coming up, and I'm in _two_ plays… My plate's full! Thanks to the reviewers, and please tell me what you think so far!

Eponine's Heir


	8. Broken Thoughts

Through a Hero's Eyes

Chapter Eight: Broken Thoughts

"_Drink with me to days gone by. To the life that used to be."_

Prouvaire, Les Misérables

* * *

School started the next day. Everybody was relieved to get out of the house, especially Neville and Harry. Trunks lined the walls of the hall; they were assured that the trunks would be magically moved within five minutes. Neville stood at the entrance, in his grandmother's sweater, waiting for everybody else to come down. They were to take a portkey back to the school, and not tell anybody about what they did over the holiday.

Once everybody had gathered in the hall, Lupin held out an over sized spoon and everybody put a finger to it. Neville slid a glance to Harry, who glared back at him in return. He didn't even hear Lupin mutter the warning count down before he felt the world around him violently. It was only a matter of seconds before they landed noisily in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was sitting in his arm chair, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.

"Ah," he said, putting his quill down gently. "Did you have a good holiday?" Everybody mumbled their yes, before Dumbledore continued. "The students haven't arrived back yet, so perhaps you should wait in here until they do."

Ginny was the first to sit down, leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees. Harry followed, settling under Fawkes's perch. Neville was next, sliding down the wall so he was sitting next to Ginny. Hermione and Ron, however, continued to wander, only their musty footsteps breaking the silence.

Once all of the other students arrived, they shuffled, silently, out of the office and into the Gryffindor common room, each making up their own story of what they did over the holiday. Neville decided that, like always, he could be secretive. Usually, he spent the holiday with his parents, but never told anybody; why would today be different? The silence was unsettling as the next few days passed. Neville hardly said anything to anybody, not even Ginny. The first week back passed painfully, and Saturday could not have come at a better time.

There was a Quidditch game that day, Gryffindor verses Slytherin. Neville settled in the lower stands, sporting a large Gryffindor flag. Once Ginny had become a new chaser, he had become much more enthusiastic about Quidditch. A whistle blew distantly, and all of the players kicked up into the air. Ginny grabbed the quaffle immediately, and sped towards the Slytherin goal posts. "GO GINNY!" Neville shouted, waving his banner.

A bludger went zooming her way, but she dodged narrowly. Again, the Slytherin beater smacked a bludger her way, but Neville never found out if she managed to dodge or not, (although a large "OOH!" from the crowd told him that she either made a spectacular dodge, or she got hit.) Professor Proditirus, or Rabastan Lestrange, stood at the lowest part of the stands, watching the game with a dismissive air.

Anger flared in Neville's eyes as he dropped his flag, and pushed his way passed Dean and Seamus. "THERE! THE SNITCH! POTTER AND MALFOY BATTLING IT OUT FOR THE SNITCH!" Lee Jordan shouted from the stands. Neville paid no notice; he pushed his way passed some Hufflepuffs, until he was right behind Lestrange. "You slimy piece of filth!" he shouted, and with a leap of faith, tackled Lestrange from behind.

Being rather scrawny, Rabastan fell quickly to the floor, yelling in pain as his head made a nasty collision with a Slytherin flag. "Get off me!" he shouted, shoving Neville's shoulder.

"You liar!" Neville shouted even louder. "Get out of here, _now_ or I'll tell everybody who you really are!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he hissed.

With as much strength as he could manage, Neville pulled his fist back, and struck Rabastan hard in the eye. It began to bruise immediately. "If you don't get out now, every body will know who you are! And they'll send you back to Azkaban where you belong you piece of dirt! You--"

But before he could finish his sentence, somebody grabbed him by the arms and pulled him up. Neville struggled tirelessly against whoever was holding him back, until he heard Dumbledore's voice whisper in his ear, "Calm down, Neville…" He obeyed and took a step back from Rabastan who was struggling to get to his feet.

"Mr. Longbottom!" Professor McGonagall's voice snapped from behind him. Neville didn't turn around; he just stared at Rabastan furiously. "Mr. Longbottom I am talking to you!"

Neville spun around, face growing a deeper shade of red. "What?" he snapped. Dumbledore fixed him with a look that quieted him immediately.

"I think we need to go up to my office," he whispered.

* * *

Teachers were packed into Dumbledore's office. Even Fawkes seemed a little unsettled by the amount of people crammed into the office. Rabastan Lestrange sat in Dumbledore's chair, applying the same vibrant ointment that Madam Pomfrey used to his black eye. Neville sat in a stiff wooden chair opposite Dumbledore's desk, staring forcefully at his lap.

"Indeed, it was very rash," he heard Dumbledore say softly to Professor McGonagall. "But I think that he had some good reason for it…" He cleared his throat loudly, and Neville tore his eyes off of his lap and stared into Dumbledore's eyes. "Why did you attack Professor Proditirus?" he asked calmly.

"Because he's a dirty liar! He's not who he says he is! He's-"

"I assure you," Rabastan said smoothly, "that I have no idea what this boy is talking about. I'm sure his imagination must have taken control… I don't blame the boy, however." A cunning smile spread across his face. "I'm sure it was just in the heat of the moment."

"Even so," Snape piped up, striding from the corner of his room until he was towering right over Neville. "He _attacked_ a teacher."

A mutual sigh was shared with Neville, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Dumbledore glanced down at his desk and then back at Neville; his eyes seemed oddly hollow. "We cannot ignore this," he finally said after a suspenseful silence. "The only fair punishment…" he paused for a moment, in which Snape and Rabastan leaned forward expectantly.

"Suspension. For two weeks."

Neville sunk back in his chair, turning maroon in anger. He couldn't say anything; he knew if he did, he'd lose control of his temper, which was slowly bubbling to the surface. All eyes seemed to turn to Neville, as though waiting his response. "Fine," he finally said, resigned.

* * *

Neville landed noisily in the hall of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Immediately, the portrait started screeching, and a group of wizards came filing out. "What is this racket?" a grubby old man who Neville didn't recognize asked.

Lupin entered last, looking over an extremely old roll of parchment. He glanced up, and quickly dropped them all. "Neville?" he asked incredulously. "Neville, what are you _doing _here?" Neville didn't say anything, but swallowed a lump rising in his throat. "Neville," Lupin said again, but couldn't finish until Neville interrupted.

"Professor Lupin," he said staring straight into his face. "I was suspended." There was an extended pause, in which everything stopped moving, and all eyes focused to Neville. "For knowing the truth, and acting upon it."

Tonks broke the silence before Lupin could respond. "I'm sure that wasn't why you were suspended," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "You must've _done_ something."

"Well, yeah," Neville admitted with a shrug. "I tackled Professor Proditirus, but--"

"You _what?_" Mrs. Weasley's jaw dropped to the ground as a pile of books she was holding did also.

"I-I said I _tackled_ Professor Proditirus, but I didn't--"

"Neville," Lupin interrupted, his face becoming suddenly painfully serious, "you can't draw so much attention to yourself. Now you're a part of the Order."

"I _know_, but I--"

"This is very serious," Mrs. Weasley continued.

"I KNOW!" Neville finally shouted, fighting back the temptation to stomp his foot on the ground. "I just – I can't – I mean…" He trailed off, and stared at the ground for a moment before beginning to run towards the stairs. He didn't look back to see everybody's eyes glued on him, but continued running, his feet pounding on the stairs so loudly that the portrait woke up again.

He swung the door to his room open and threw himself on his bed furiously.

"Young Longbottom is angry…" a raspy, high pitched voice said from the corner. Kreacher, the house elf, crawled out dusting his wrinkled knees off. "Kreacher would wonder why."

"It's none of your business, Kreacher," Neville snapped.

The elderly elf shrugged and began to walk out of the room. Once he slammed the door, Neville let himself fall onto the bed. His eyes fluttered closed, and he slowly drifted off to sleep…

* * *

The next morning Neville woke with a start. The sun was extremely high in the sky, telling him that he must have been sleeping for quite some time. Neville slumped against the wall in his pajamas. Fatigue was slowly closing his eyes, until the door opened rather quickly. "Neville?" Mrs. Weasley said cautiously. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry," he grunted.

Heaving a great sigh, Mrs. Weasley bit her lip, and muttered, "Well, I don't want you to start beating yourself up over this," and shut the door.

Neville didn't move the entire day; he just sat, vegetating. His eyes glazed over, and he was immersed in his own thoughts. He didn't even notice when Kreacher crept in and began changing the bedspreads. Finally, a gentle knock at the door brought him to his senses.

"Neville?" It was Dumbledore. Neville didn't answer, just stared up at the ceiling. The door creaked open, and Dumbledore glided in and sat down on Harry's unoccupied bed. "Good day," he said, his subtlety calming smile spreading across his face.

"Hi," Neville replied flatly. He turned his gaze off the ceiling and to the elderly wizard in front of him. He had some sort of box next to him.

"I think," Dumbledore began, his eyes cast towards Neville's, "that it is time to tell you something." Neville didn't respond, but stared at his bare feet. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows half a centimeter, before continuing. "Sixteen years ago a prophecy was made."

Neville looked up, his dark eyes reflecting the light from torches on the wall. "And?" he asked, intense curiosity growing.

Dumbledore closed his eyes, and began to recite. "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._" With a solemn look on his face, he opened his eyes and stared intently at Neville.

"Th-that's about H-Harry?" Neville stuttered.

"And Voldemort." Neville shuddered at the name.

"It-it sounds familiar."

"I'm not surprised. Last year at the Department of Mysteries, I'm aware that you dropped it."

"Oh… right."

"But," Dumbledore raised a hand to stop Neville's thoughts right there, "when this prophecy was made, we weren't sure _who_ it was about." Neville didn't respond. "Can you not think of anybody else who was born at the end of July and whose parents defied Voldemort three times?"

Neville again, couldn't respond. He knew who it was, but he couldn't say it aloud.

Dumbledore seemed to respect this, and stood up gracefully. "You might want to borrow this," he said, gesturing towards the box he had laying on the bed he had been sitting on.

Neville didn't acknowledge him, but let his eyes glaze over. A tall, blurry figure leaving the room signified Dumbledore's exit. Once the door clicked, he stood up, blinking blurriness out of his eyes. He made timid movements towards the box, before stopping in the center of the room. "M-m-me!" he whispered, eyes growing wide with astonishment. "Me! I could have been there!"

He turned forcefully to the box on the bed, curiosity suddenly flooding over him. He reached a shaky hand towards it, and pulled a rather large basin out from it. It was heavy, a lot heavier than it looked. He placed it on the desk against the wall and leaned slowly over it. "It's a pensive!" he muttered, with an understanding nod. He had, of course, seen pensives before. His grandmother had used them late at night, and occasionally, he would watch her sobbing, and watching her thoughts swimming through it.

Taking his wand, he placed the tip to his head and shut his eyes. Dumbledore was right, he really _did _need it. He pulled the wand from his head and placed it in the basin. The silvery substance of his thoughts swirled in the pensive, and began to take shape before him. Neville, unable to stop his curiosity, leaned in.

It felt like he was free falling from a great height, gathering momentum. He landed loudly in the hall of his old home, and stood up, brushing off his pants, as though they had gathered dust. He looked around for a moment, and trotted over to a doorway and smiled. A younger version of him, one year old, chubby and giggling, sat on his mother's lap while his father made silly faces at him.

The cheery mood continued for about thirty minutes. Neville frowned as his first memory played before him. He knew what was going to happen next, and wanted to cry out "No! Leave the house now! Run! Go to somewhere safe!" but knew that nobody would be able to hear him.

His heart sped up, and before he could enjoy his last moments with his parents, a loud bang made Alice, Frank, baby Neville, and sixteen year old Neville jump. Bellatrix Lestrange entered first, her eyes glittering with malice. Three men followed, Rodolphus Lestrange, Barty Crouch Jr., and Rabastan Lestrange. Neville's eyes flared when he saw Rabastan enter.

Neville watched painfully as his father head them off while Alice grabbed Neville and ran into another room. Neville followed, knowing that his memory followed his own path, and he would soon be forced to go back to his own thoughts. He stole one more glance at his father, squaring off with Rodolphus, Crouch, and Rabastan before running after his mother.

He never figured out how Bellatrix got there so fast, but once he rounded the corner, Alice shielding him from Bellatrix. She laughed her harsh cold cackle and pointed her wand at Alice, whose face turned a deep maroon in response. "You think the Dark Lord will take pity on you or your boy?" Her laugh filled the room, again, and she pointed her wand at Alice. **_"Crucio!"_**

Alice's knees collapsed, and she hit the ground with a _thump! _She wasn't screaming, but Neville could tell how hard she was fighting it. A minute passed, Alice did not scream, and Bellatrix showed no sign of raising her wand. "LET HER GO!" Neville shouted, but nobody responded; of course nobody responded, he wasn't really there.

Neville wasn't sure how long it took, before Bellatrix finally lifted her wand. Alice was on the ground, crumpled up. Her eyes were wide open and glazed over; life was missing from them. "Mum…" he whispered, hoarsely. Bellatrix's laugh brought him to his senses and he turned sharply to see the tiniest bulge under a table cloth that was draped over a coffee table. In all of the hustle, Bellatrix did not even see it before turning around and leaving the room.

The door slammed, and baby Neville pushed up the table cloth, tears streaming from his eyes. Neville watched his former self crawl over to his mother, who was staring blankly around the room. "Mama!" the infant cried, pushing her arm lightly. "Mama! Mama!"

The memory faded to black, and Neville was being jerked up into reality. He stumbled backwards and hit the wall, panting. The door open quickly, and Mrs. Weasley sprinted in, panting just as hard as Neville was. "Neville are you okay? I heard a crash and came running--"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Neville muttered.

"Are you sure, because--"

"Yes! I'm _fine!"_

"Neville, I don't want you to--"

"Leave me alone!"

Mrs. Weasley, so obviously taken aback, stumbled a few steps backwards before turning around. Her face was very deep shade of red as she shuffled out of the room and shut the door with a subtle _click!_

Frustration rising, Neville picked up the pensive. It was surprisingly heavy. With a small sob, he threw it across the room, and the clay basin cracked in half as it hit the wall. He stumbled backwards as he anticipated the results of what he had done.

Fog of all different colors began seeping out of the fragments of the pensive. Neville jumped onto the bed, wondering if the fog was somehow poisonous, but watched with unblinking gaze. It wasn't long before the fog began to take shape all around the room. The first image he recognized was what looked like a younger version of Snape. He was hanging from something, but Snape was the only thing he could recognize. His robes had fallen over his head to reveal something that Neville never wanted to remember again, all tinted in a dark grey. Then, Sirius Black, eyes wide open, falling behind the veil came into view tinted green. In a light blue, Professor Lupin was slowly transforming from human to wolf under the full moon.

Before he could let it continue, Neville dashed out of his room and down the fire. He took a handful of Floo Powder, and threw it into the fire, exclaiming, "ST. MUNGO'S!" The trip to the hospital was much more violent than it usually was, probably because of the excess of Floo Powder. He landed noisily in the fire place and ran up the stairs to his parents ward.

He reached it in a matter of minutes, and panted heavily as he ran over to his mother's bedside. She was wide awake and staring at the ceiling. "Mum…" he whispered, a tear working its way down his face. Alice turned to him and smiled. He put his head on her shoulder and let tears fall freely, while his entire frame shook with sobs.

Hours passed, and nothing happened. No healers walked by, and Lockhart didn't say a word. After what felt like seven hours, footsteps in the hallway made Neville raise his head and rub his eyes.

"Neville?" It was Professor Lupin. He peeked his head in the door and let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank G-d."

"Who else is with you?" Neville demanded, standing in front of his mother defensively.

"Nobody, I'm alone," Lupin said briefly, before adding, "You scared the hell out of us, Neville. What are you doing here? We spent the last six hours looking for you."

Neville let his head droop and squeezed his mother's hand tightly.

"Neville, you cannot run away like this, anymore. It won't accomplish anything, and it scares the rest of us to death."

"I-I-I…" Neville didn't know what to say. He just stared at his shoes and followed Professor Lupin out of the hospital.

* * *

The rest of the two weeks slowly dragged by. Neville tried running away one more time through it, but Tonks succeeded in finding him at the fireplace and talking him out of it before he put a toe in the ashes.

Finally, the day before he went back to school, Tonks pulled him aside again. "You may," she began, in an attempt to be serious, "want to keep that temper of yours under control." Her face split into a grin. "Try not to attack anymore teachers, alright? We're trying to keep a low profile."

"It wasn't random though!" Neville protested. "And that teacher is _not_ Tiberius Proditirus. His name is Rabastan Lestrange, and he was a death eater! He was one of the guys who-who… you know."

Tonks raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "I-I don't think so," she said quietly. "I have seen pictures, and that man looks nothing like him. Besides, Dumbledore would know if something was up."

"But--"

"C'mon, dinner's going to start in a few minutes, let's go help."

* * *

**AN: **I am SO sorry about how long it took to finish this chapter. I have had such little computer time, lately! I'm sad to say that I probably won't be able to post again until school ends. So many PLAYS! I have four shows this week! Wish me luck! Back on the subject of fanfics, _please _review this chapter! I want to know what everyone thinks about it considering how long it took. All sorts of reviews are welcome!

Thanks a million!

Eponine's Heir


	9. An Awkward Attempt at Romance

Through a Hero's Eyes

Chapter nine: An Awkward Attempt at Romance

"_And remember the truth that once was spoken. To love another person is to see the face of G-d!"_

Eponine, Fantine, and Valjean; Les Misérables

**

* * *

**

Finally, the suspension was over. Neville wandered into the Great Hall the morning two weeks after had had fought Rabastan, and the room went dead silent. A rather brave first year leaned over to his friend, and Neville heard a very clear, "It's him, you know, the sixth year who attacked Professor Proditirus." Murmurs exploded through the Great Hall, and Neville turned a light pink, before sitting down at the Gryffindor table.

He tried as hard as he could to ignore the distracting murmurs, but was having trouble. Finally settling to humming a loud tune, he crunched loudly on his cereal. Students began to file out of the Great Hall, and Neville stood up shortly after he saw Harry, Ron and Hermione leave. He hadn't seen Ginny; he supposed she was just avoiding him. He watched Ron and Hermione bid goodbye and Harry and turn the corner.

"Hey, Harry!" Neville shouted, finally getting the courage to confront him.

Harry turned and raised his eyebrows when he saw Neville. "Yeah?" he said in an almost impatient voice.

"I-I just got back," Neville said awkwardly, now not as sure if he wanted to talk to Harry anymore.

"I noticed."

"And I-I was just wondering, if… I mean—I talked to Dumbledore."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah… And he told me about – about the prophecy."

Harry didn't respond.

"I-I-well… I just thought… Well, I don't know. I suppose I just maybe wanted you to know that I know about it. And-"

"And you're glad that you weren't the one Voldemort chose?"

"No – well, yes, kind of. But that's not what I meant. I meant-"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Harry said suddenly. And without another word, turned on his heal and trotted out of the hallway.

"Well, that was productive…" Neville muttered sarcastically to himself. He turned around and leaned against the wall with a sigh. "What class to I have next…?" he wondered out loud. It had been a while since he had been at the school and could hardly remember his schedule.

"I think you have Herbology," a dreamy voice said. Luna walked over to him and leaned against the wall right next to him.

"Thanks…" Neville said, stopped for a moment, and then continued, "how did you know that?"

"I was talking to Ginny while you were gone, and she told me about her first day."

"Oh…" Neville looked down at his lap and shrugged to himself. "So I--"

"What are you doing this summer?" Luna suddenly asked, turning to him and looking much more interested than she had before. "My dad and I are going looking for the Beluæmot monster. Would you like to come? It should be an amazing trip."

Neville couldn't help but stifle a laugh. "No – no, sorry, I'm er – busy. Some family friends I need to go visit," he lied off of the top of his head.

"I thought not," Luna said with a dreamy smile. A few more minutes passed and Neville let out a sigh as Luna asked, "So what happened with Professor Proditirus?"

"Oh," Neville muttered, actually a little taken aback by the question. "Er – nothing. I just – thought sometime that wasn't – true. That's all. Just a mistake that turned wrong."

"I know what you mean," Luna said with a would be understanding nod if she was somebody else and had absolutely any idea what he had gone through. "So this weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend. It should be beautiful, you know. It always is at this time of year."

"I would," Neville began, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, "but I'm not allowed to – you know what?" An ambitious grin split on his face. "Yes… I do think I'll be able to go."

Luna smiled and clapped her hands together. "Great!" she said as enthusiastically as her dreamy personality would allow. "Can I meet you at Honeydukes at eleven?"

"Alright," Neville confirmed. "I'll be there."

With a small smile, Luna turned on her heal and walked in the other direction, muttering something to herself. Neville was about to open his mouth to ask her where she was going, but something pushed him over, and, startled for a moment, he let out a sort of confused yell. But before he could try to apologize for getting in the way, he vaguely saw red hair at the other end of the hall and called out, "GINNY!"

Ginny turned around slowly to face him; her eyes were a deep shade of pink, and her nose was running just a little bit. "What?" she asked slowly.

Neville didn't even notice. He walked over to her and asked, "Do you know how to get into Honeydukes through a secret passage?"

Ginny let out a short sigh and looked down to the ground for no more than a second. "The statue," she finally muttered. "The humped back witch on the third floor. You tap it with your wand and say '_dissendium'._"

"How do you know all of these things?" Neville asked, laughing.

"I grew _up_ with Fred and George, Neville. Honestly, what do you think?" Ginny snapped more sharply than Neville had ever heard her talk.

"This is great," Neville began, his face splitting into a grin. "I'll finally be able to talk to Luna alone. You know, I've _always_ had a bit of a thing for her." He was lying, of course, but didn't want to sound stupid in front of Ginny.

"Great," Ginny said with a sarcastic smile. "Now you two can live _happily ever after." _With that she turned on her heal and ran out of the corridor; Neville never heard her crying.

**

* * *

**

That Saturday found Neville in the third corridor, trying to act as casual as possible. He spotted the statue of the humped back witch, and ran over to it. Once he made sure that nobody was watching, he tapped it with his wand and muttered, _"Dissendium!"_

Neville watched, wide eyed as the statue shifted into a passageway. Before anybody could notice him, he slipped through the passageway and ran down it. He prayed that nobody found out he was here. Once he reached the end of the corridor, he saw a trap door and pushed it open. "Ah!" he whispered, when he saw crates with different candy names hastily scribbled across them. "I'm in the cellar!" he concluded.

Quickly, he scrambled out of the passageway and made it to the main store, trying to blend in with the crowds of people pushing their way to the counter. Thankfully, nobody noticed that he was there. It wasn't something new to him; he was used to being pushed to the side, but this was the first time it ever worked in his advantage.

He spotted Luna examining a sale on cockroach clusters. "Oi! Luna!" he shouted, walking over to her.

She turned around and smiled; Neville was a little bit taken aback at first. She had obviously tried to dress up for the occasion. She was wearing robes that matched the shocking blue color of her eyes perfectly, with details in a color that could only be described as the color of what somebody would scrape off the bottom of your shoe if he had a run in with a rather large pile of dog mess. She had also attempted makeup, something Neville decided she should never try again. She was wearing a sort of vibrant violet lipstick, and eye shadow that matched. But still, he felt bad. She had dressed up and put effort into what she was going to wear, while he was wearing a simple navy blue robe and a scarf his grandmother knitted him.

"Hello," she said in an odd tone; Neville decided that she was trying to be romantic, but her dreamy voice made it sound like she had something stuck on the roof of her mouth, and was trying to scrape it off with her tongue.

"Er—hi," Neville said awkwardly. "So… um, where do you want to go?"

"I was thinking," she began, completely still attempting romance, "that we head over to Madam Puddifoot's."

"Alright," Neville agreed with a shrug.

As they walked to Madam Puddifoot's, Neville kept his eyes open for any teachers that may have been passing. Thankfully, he didn't see anybody but students. It was the beginning of March, and still rather cold, so many of the students were so bundled up that they were almost unrecognizable. Finally, they reached the cozy pub, and Neville held the door open for Luna. Once they had settled at a small table in the corner and had ordered their drinks, Luna leaned in and said, "So…"

"So…" Neville repeated, kicking his left foot against the leg of the table nervously. The table shook with the force of his kicks and a jar of sugar cubes fell off. Quickly, he dove to catch it, and swayed on his spot as the jar landed in his palm. As he placed it back on the table, Luna looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Sorry…" he muttered sheepishly, and put his elbows on the table.

The tea came just in time, letting Neville take a moment to himself while he added some milk and sugar cubes to it. He took a sip and smiled; tea had always been his favorite drink. He watched with amazement as Luna counted out eight sugar cubes and placed them in her cup. They sat for a few minutes in complete silence except for the occasional slurp from a nearby table.

"Did you know," she said out of no where, "that certain types of tea leaves are eaten by the Shaline Mice?"

"Oh?" Neville asked, trying to appear interested.

"Yes," Luna answered with a distant sort of smile. "They are the primary prey of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."

"Oh," Neville repeated, a little bit disappointed. He knew that strange creatures that most likely did not exist was one of her favorite subjects, but thought, by the beginning of the statement, that this would be a little more realistic.

After possibly the longest awkward silence he had endured, Luna finally said, "It's getting late."

"Er—yeah," Neville agreed, although the sun was just beginning to set.

"I have to finish homework," she continued and attempted to look regretful. "Can I talk to you later?"

"Yeah…" Neville shuffled his feet awkwardly, glancing down at his lap. When he looked up, Luna had gone. He let out a long sigh and got up himself, leaving with a quick glance at the man who had been sitting at a table near them slurping loudly.

The sun began to set, and Neville wandered through Hogsmeade Village. He was slowly heading towards Hogwarts, but would take his time while getting there. Glancing to the right, he saw the Three Broomsticks filled with cheery customers. Slowly, he walked towards it, to see if there was anybody he knew there.

There were, in fact, quite a few people he knew. Bright red hair in the window told him that Ginny sat by the window. He wandered a little closer, and saw that she was talking to Hermione. He could only see the back of her head, but Hermione looked quite concerned. As though she read his thoughts, Ginny turned her head and looked out the window. Neville dashed out of eyesight, but made sure he could still see her. His gaze softened when she saw that she was crying.

He turned around, feeling as though somebody had just tied his insides in a knot and was about to walk away when somebody walked past him, and stopped. It was Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Longbottom?" she said sharply.

"Er-" Neville scratched the back of his head nervously.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Longbottom?"

"I-I-"

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "Mr. Longbottom come with me up to the school if you do not want to suffer serious consequences."

Neville's mouth went dry as he followed her up the path to the school.

"Mr. Longbottom, did I not tell you that you were _not _allowed to go into Hogsmeade this year?"

Neville sat again in Professor McGonagall's office, staring at his lap. "Yes," he answered dully.

"And you did not listen to me?"

"_Yes,"_ Neville repeated more emphatically.

"We are not trying to ruin whatever social life you might be struggling with," she said in a recited tone of voice. "However, with the recent … circumstances… with Bellatrix Lestrange on the loose, you--"

"I should be on my guard and stay away from Hogsmeade," Neville interrupted.

"Longbottom, I don't want have to take away more points than I am going to right now." McGonagall pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Longbottom. I hope you are aware of how kind I am being right now. Professor Dumbledore _will_ know about this; though I would be surprised if he does not already." She glanced out the window at the darkening sky. "Get back to the common room, Longbottom."

**

* * *

**

Weeks passed, and nothing very interesting happened. Surprisingly, nobody found out about Neville sneaking out. No rumors sprouted up and Hogwarts seemed to get duller with each passing day. The weeks grudgingly turned into months, and all of the fatigued students found themselves in mid May. Neville did not have any more dates with Luna. Neither of them talked about it anymore; there was a silent pact that let them both blissfully ignore it.

One thing that had been nagging Neville since his date was that he had not talked to Ginny, either. Every time he tried to talk to her, she just pushed him away. He honestly had no idea what he had done, and was very concerned that he had lost his best friend.

The library was filled with students, primarily frantic fifth years and hysterical seventh years. But occasionally, if you searched through the herds of fifth and seventh years, you would find more students.

Neville leaned against a rather uncomfortable bookshelf, sucking on the back of his quill. Earlier, he had a great table where he could spread out, and was close to three shelves packed with books from many of his classes, but a pack of seventh years demanded that he move because they had more use for it. So, without another table, he now sat on the ground.

"Neville?" Ginny appeared from behind a bookshelf.

Neville looked up and smiled. Without a word, he stood up.

"I-I'm sorry I haven't-haven't been talking to you lately… It's just I – I … Well, I mean… you must've figured this out already, right?"

Neville looked at her quizzically. "No," he answered blankly. "I – I've been wondering … why myself."

Ginny dug her toe into the ground nervously. "Are you serious? I mean – you- you haven't noticed _anything?"_

"No," Neville repeated.

With a huge sigh, Ginny tried to put words in her mouth. "I-I really like you Neville… more than friends," she finally said; once she had, she seemed rather deflated, as though waiting for him to laugh at her.

Rather than laughing, Neville's face just split into a grin. "I-I do too," he stuttered, amazed that she felt the same way.

Almost tearfully, Ginny asked, "B-b-but what about Luna? I thought you said that you had always had a bit of a thing for her…"

"I lied," Neville said simply. "I just didn't want to look stupid…" He shifted anxiously back and forth. "Hey, it's a beautiful day," he said suddenly, glancing out the window. "What do you say we go out by the lake?"

"Okay," Ginny responded timidly, blushing a light pink.

**

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**

**AN:** Thanks for the reviews everyone! Again, I'm sorry this chapter took so long. But finals ended and SCHOOL IS OUT! This chapter's a bit shorter than all of the others, but don't expect the next one to be. I am also very sad and excited to say that the next chapter will be the final chapter in this story. Hopefully you will all be able to bear with me if it takes a little bit of time. Probably not as long as this one took, though, considering I have nothing to do for the next two weeks! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review!

Eponine's Heir


	10. Not So Sweet Revenge

Through a Hero's Eyes

Chapter ten: Not So Sweet Revenge

"_For the wretched of the Earth, there is a flame that never dies. Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!"_

Ensemble, Les Misérables

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**AN:** I know, I don't usually do author notes before the story, but I thought a warning was necessary, and what's the point if it's at the end? There is some mild violence in this chapter, so if you're squeamish… well it's not _that_ bad, just felt like warning you.

* * *

Neville found the rest of May was much more enjoyable with Ginny. They were usually found sitting under a rather large oak tree on the lawn of the grounds. Ginny found Neville's knowledge on Herbology helped immensely while she struggled to memorize the names of plants and their characteristics; Neville found Ginny's knowledge of spells and theories behind them helped him while he studied for the practical in Charms.

Hermione, on the other hand, found nobody helpful, and could be found buried under a pile of books, some of which had absolutely nothing to do with any of her courses. Even when Neville asked her why she had borrowed _An Brief History of Egyptian Draughts _(a book that was no less than one thousand pages long), she simply snapped "For Potions!"

The first exam for Neville was Herbology. It was a fairly easy exam, consisting mainly of questions about the origins of the plants, and not much of what the plants did. The next exam was Charms. Neville found the practical extremely difficult, although he didn't make any horrible mistakes. And so he pushed himself through all of his exams. They were difficult enough for him to come out looking up the answers to a few questions, but easy enough for him to know that he would get no lower than an A.

Their last exam was Defense Against the Dark Arts. At nine in the morning, all of the sixth years could be found standing anxiously outside of the Great Hall. Hermione was clearly the most frantic, her bushy hair poking out from behind a huge volume. The great oak doors to the Great Hall opened, and one nervous looking Ravenclaw tried to walk through the doors, only to be stopped by Dumbledore's outstretched hand. "I will ask you please not to enter, Mr. Murdoch," he said calmly.

Putting his hand down, he addressed the all of the students. "I'm afraid," he began, "that we cannot have this exam, yet." There was a general murmur of confusion that ran through the students. "Your professor seems to have … left without any warning and did not give us a copy of his exam." The tension in the room seemed to mount higher and higher until Hermione shot up to standing, her eyes wide. "So I'm afraid your exam must be postponed."

"What?" Hermione walked briskly to Dumbledore. "Professor, you must be joking. We have to take it."

"I'm afraid Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, "that I am not joking."

Slowly, students began to trickle out, muttered annoyed or excited comments to each other until the only people left in the hall were Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville. Neville, suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable, left the room, head pointed to the ground. Right when he did, he heard a sudden shuffle of steps and hushed voices.

"The Golden Trio's at it again…" he muttered to himself, stuffing his hands into his pocket. Feeling rather prepared for this exam, Neville thought it would be best to take a break from studying. He wandered the halls, which were extremely deserted, considering that the majority of the students were sitting exams. He found himself in the common room sitting in front of the fire place.

The fact that Rabastan Lestrange escaped scared him very much; he was a powerful wizard surely with revenge on his mind. Letting his eyes close, Neville shuddered at the thought. His eyes quickly snapped open and he stood up, running his hands through his hair. Without thinking, he raised his wand and muttered, _"Accio Floo Powder!" _

A leather bag of Floo Powder zipped across the common room. Neville caught it in his left hand and pocketed his wand. Taking a pinch of powder out of the pouch, he walked over to the fire place. With a sigh, he pulled out a pinch and threw it into the fire muttering, "St. Mungo's Hospital!"

He landed softly in the sooty fireplace and brushed himself off before scooting out of the way so other travelers would not land on him. The welcome witch recognized him immediately and said, "Your parents just had lunch. They are probably having a nap, if you want to wait or come back later."

"No, it's fine," Neville replied flatly as he turned to the stairs and began to climb them. It seemed to be a rather slow day at the hospital with only disgruntled looking healers bustling by. Neville found himself having to flatten against the wall more than once to let a group of healer interns examining a dead toad on a cart rush by.

It took almost ten minutes to reach his parents' ward. And once he did, everything seemed hushed. Most of the long term patients took naps around this time. A healer with a stack of envelopes in her arms smiled at him and said, "They just went to sleep, but I'm sure that they won't be too cranky to be woken." Neville returned the smile and jogged over to their beds.

Frank was snoring loudly, ruffling his hair every time he let out some air. Alice flinched at every snore and then regained a peaceful smile during the moments of silence. Pulling up a stool, Neville sat down in between their beds and was about to place his hand on his mother's when the door slammed open. Alice's eyes opened to the size of Galleons and sat up while Frank slowly pried his eyes open and didn't even bother to sit up.

A hooded wizard stood in the doorway stood with his arms crossed. Although Neville could not see his face, somehow he knew that the man was smirking. He stole a quick glance over at Alice; the look in her eyes told him immediately who it was. As the wizard lowered his hood, Neville stood up, pulling out his wand. Rabastan Lestrange stood before him, a confident sneer etching along his face.

"You," Neville croaked, jabbing his wand threateningly towards him. "You – what are you doing here?"

"To find you," Rabastan replied simply. He pulled out his own wand, long, dark and menacing, and pointed it at Neville. Before Neville could do anything, he hissed, _"Stupefy!"_

The images around him were extremely blurry as his eyes began to open. He was on the ground, and it was rather cold. Flickering torches did a horrible job illuminating the dungeon around him. The ground was the same cold stone that made up the Hogwarts dungeons. Blinking to get the blur out of his eyes, Neville sat up and glanced around in disorientation.

Suddenly, he realized what must have happened and stood up, finding his wand in his pocket. He pulled it out and muttered, _"Lumos"_ to illuminate the shadowed dungeon around him.

A harsh laugh from the corner made him jump like a first year who destroyed his first cauldron. Bellatrix Lestrange stepped into the wand light and grinned at him, making sure no ounce of happiness reached her dark eyes. She looked exactly like she had the previous year. Neville's mouth went dry and he held his shaking wand a little higher.

"Longbottom," Bellatrix sneered, raised her own wand and added, "Finally without your hero Potter."

"Shut up," Neville hissed, lacking the confidence to make himself sound powerful.

Again, her laughter filled the room, and Neville couldn't help shuddering.

With a sneer she continued, "I was hoping that we would meet again. After all of the hustle and bustle of last year, I felt that we had to leave _Potter_ out of it this time. He isn't here to save you this time."

"I don't need him to--"

"_CRUCIO!" _she shrieked, the words bouncing off of the walls.

The spell hit him before he could do anything about it. He collapsed immediately to his knees as his face collided with the ground. Although familiar with this curse and its effects, Neville's mind raced into confusion it did its job.

Needles must have been working into his skin. Everywhere a needle would be forced into him. White, hot, burning needles that could drive one insane. The pain triggered memories into his past, and Neville bit his lip, determined not to scream. He couldn't show weakness, not now. This was his time for revenge.

The curse continued and intensified.

Now his bones were breaking, all at the same time, slowly and constantly. His head was being slammed into a wall, while knives were twisted in every inch of his limbs. But still, he wouldn't scream or yell. He just waited, trying to steer his mind away from the pain.

The spell might have gone on for hours or minutes, Neville really couldn't tell the difference, his mind clouded by the pain. But finally the curse was lifted, and Neville slowly pushed himself up so he was on his knees, panting.

"It seems that you have gained strength since last year," Lestrange said in a wisp of a voice. "You didn't scream like a child like last time." Neville slowly stood up, careful not to collapse; he would not be vulnerable. "I am, though, impressed with whatever strength you have gained. Not many can keep that silent."

Neville raised his wand and pointed it at her; he couldn't think of anything to say, so just kept silent.

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows, and pulled out her own wand. "Are you going to hurt me, little Longbottom?" she asked in a mocking voice.

"I-I'll sure as hell try," Neville said bluntly.

"Go ahead then," she continued in the same tone, "hurt me. Get your revenge for you dear, sweet, parents."

"Why did you do it?" Neville finally asked, his voice quivering.

"Why did I do it?" Lestrange repeated. "Why did I do it? Do you know nothing of the Dark Lord and his supporters? Do you know nothing of loyalty? After Potter destroyed him, the Death Eaters all fled. Those cowards fled, while the _true _supporters had to fight the Ministry. It wasn't long after we heard of the Prophecy. It seems our friend Wormtail let the information about it slip." She sneered. "All of us wondered who would end up killing who; but nobody really looked into the depths and wondered more possibilities."

Neville narrowed his eyes, and made sure his wand was clearly visible.

"But I am not like those other idiots," Bellatrix explained. "I knew there might be more mysteries. So I had to ask those who were not in hiding who might have else defied us three times."

Neville lowered his wand, suddenly feeling very sick. "And you found us," he finished.

"And I found … you,"she spat. "But somehow… somehow _you_, little baby, got away. You got protection from you dear grandmother."

Neville's anger flared and his eyes flashed. "Don't you dare talk about her," he shouted in a booming voice, very uncharacteristic of him. "She was a wonderful woman and you destroyed her."

"I have destroyed many people," she replied sharply, and added, "many more _wonderful_ than your parents and your grandmother."

She had said it. All restraints Neville had up snapped and he pointed his wand towards her neck. With a great slashing movement, he shouted, _"ADFLICTAMUS!"_

It seemed to happen in slow motion; a jet of icy purple light shot from his wand with all the power that one could imagine coming from the phoenix father and flew towards Bellatrix Lestrange's throat. It hit with such a force that she was thrown backwards into the stone wall. The _thud_ from the impact of Bellatrix on the wall seemed to bring everything up to normal speed. Neville lowered his wand, what he had just done slowly sinking in.

Lestrange's throat was slashed. Crimson blood was pouring from her neck, staining the top of her robes. It was hard to tell, but Neville thought, for a moment, that she was smiling.

"I underestimated you, Neville Longbottom," she whispered. Her eyes clouded as she fought to keep them open. They shut, and Neville for a moment thought she had finally died before she said, "You are a much stronger wizard than you look." A silence stretched a mile long filled the room, as Neville waited. Suddenly, something seemed to fill Lestrange. She seemed to raise no more than an inch off the ground before going completely limp. Neville knew, then, that she had died.

_**CRACK!**_

Dumbledore appeared in the dungeon, appearing just as distressed as he had the previous year. "What happened?" he asked in a rushed voice.

"I-I… Lestrange…" Neville stuttered, dropping his wand.

"Don't move," Dumbledore said as softly as he could.

Neville didn't listen, though, and snatched his wand from the ground. Dumbledore grabbed him by the arm, and for a moment, Neville thought he had made him angry. But before he could apologize, there was a loud **_CRACK_** and Neville found himself an instant later at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

His confusion grew as he pondered how that was possible. He never knew that you could Apparate with somebody else, but he supposed that with a wizard powerful like Dumbledore, anything was possible.

They were in the drawing room, Neville noticed. Dumbledore gestured towards a stiff looking arm chair. Neville sat, and Dumbledore sat on one across from it.

"I know…" Dumbledore began in his calm voice, "that this is still fresh in your mind, but for my own purposes-" his eyes flickered merrily "-could you explain what just happened?"

Neville took in a deep breath that seemed to go on forever, before answering, "Okay…" He licked his lips, deciding where to start. "After you told us the exam had been canceled I went to St. Mungo's."

His story lasted longer than he would have thought. It must have taken him an hour to describe every detail of the events of that day. Finally he finished, and looked to Dumbledore. Dumbledore, in response, glanced down at his lap, thoughtfully. "I-I didn't mean to-to kill her," he stuttered shakily. "I-I just was more powerful th-than I thought I was."

"A lesson learned by all tonight," Dumbledore said, nodding slowly. "I think it is only fair to tell you that Rabastan Lestrange has been caught." His eyes twinkled merrily, as though waiting for Neville to squeal with delight before he continued. "I realized, once you left, that you had been right the entire time. It pieced together perfectly. I went immediately to my office, to get information, and found out that he was at St. Mungo's. I went to head him off, but once I arrived, I found him laughing." Neville's mouth went dry again. "I just missed Bellatrix, he told me, and that by the time I would get there you would be dead. It didn't take long for the Ministry to get there, but those precious moments are what slowed me down."

Neville looked at his lap, a smile beginning to form.

"Originally, we had meant to question Lestrange… but I think this is better. Your life isn't at risk, Voldemort lost a valuable servant with no chance of getting her back, and she was lucky enough to avoid the Dementors."

Neville let out a sigh and slumped back in his chair. His mind was racing, but he didn't want to listen to it anymore. Trying to lighten the mood, he asked, "So I studied that long for nothing?'

"Oh, I wouldn't say it was for nothing," Dumbledore said with a smile. "The exam has been canceled, yes, but the knowledge will help you for the rest of your life. No doubt you would make an excellent Auror."

Neville beamed with pride, never having even considered that option.

"NEVILLE!" a shrill voice echoed through the hall.

"BLOOD TRAITORS! STINKING UP MY OWN HOME! MY FAMILY'S HOME! DISGUSTING!"

Dumbledore laughed softly and said, "That's a rather disturbing portrait, I'd say. I think I'll go handle it."

As he exited, Ginny entered the room, her face a deep red. Neville stood up, grinning.

"NEVILLE! NEVILLE! NEVILLE!" She ran over to him and hit him with an odd combination of a tackle and a hug that only Ginny would be able to do. "Neville I was so worried about you! Seamus told me he saw you stepping into the fire and I didn't know--"

"Ginny, it's okay," Neville said softly. "I'm fine…" He returned the hug, unable to contain his happiness; for the first time in sixteen years, he felt complete.

* * *

**AN:** So there it is! Through a Hero's Eyes is completely finished. I'm sorry this chapter is sort of short, I don't know why it worked out that way. I really hoped you enjoyed my story, and please review because I want to know what people think! Oh wow… I'm really sad that it's over, but also really excited and I must sound stupid now because I'm just rambling. I just really want to thank Cheelalaucha for being a very loyal reviewer. Ah now I feel bad for not thanking everybody, but you know Cheelalaucha has been there since the very beginning… Well, I hope you all enjoyed your story, and I am planning some other fics, if you're interested. They probably won't be Neville related, though. I've explored his character enough for a while. Also, I probably won't be posting more than one shots before HBP comes out, because I don't like writing AUs.

Thank you again to everybody! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing!

Eponine's Heir


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